how innocent the dawn
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Draco Malfoy was always set to marry Pansy Parkinson, ever since he was six years old. But after the War, the Purebloods are struggling in an uncertain future, and for Draco that means having to adjust to living by rules he never expected. In order to save his family's reputation, he must cast aside what he always knew to be true and begin anew by the guidelines of a changed world.
1. Funerals and Pretty Girls

He'd been to five funerals in four days—this was the sixth, the burial of Daphne Greengrass in their family plot, right next to the four other siblings that had lost their life before Daphne passed away. Not that Draco was aware these were her siblings; he had never heard the stories since she never brought them up, and he didn't particularly care to ask. he'd never cared to ask about the family lives of any of his fellow Purebloods and was largely uninformed, with the exception of Pansy Parkinson, who had been bound to him since they were both six years old, a relationship he'd only been informed of when he was fourteen and needed a date for the Yule Ball.

They were to marry in three years' time, a fact that Draco was still more than a tad reluctant to accept, even after courting the girl for the last year years. After all, this _was_ Pansy he was expected to marry and father children with.

Draco looked to his left where the remaining members of the Greengrass family stood huddled together, staring into the hole in the ground in which they had placed Daphne's body only a few minutes earlier.

Mr Greengrass, greying at the edges already despite being the same age as Draco's father, put an arm around his heavily pregnant wife. The Lady Greengrass held one hand on her rounded stomach while the other one held an infant not much more than a month old—this was Anaed, Daphne's daughter, born only a few weeks before the Battle, before Daphne's death. The remaining Greengrass daughters were sixteen year old Astoria and two year old Linelle, who clung to her sister's hand and glanced around in bewilderment, unable to understand the overall sombre and dark, melancholy behaviour of the funeral attendees. Draco had never met the younger ones before—he didn't know who they were.

There'd never been much interaction between himself and _any_ of the Greengrass family, to be honest. They were without side during the first war, at least according to Draco's father, and so, he was largely warned against having much to do with their eldest daughter, Daphne, the only one who was his age.

In fact, he was really only here at the insistence of Pansy, who, for whatever reason, had chosen now to be sentimental about a friendship that died off before the girls even reached Hogwarts. He would never quite understand the mood swings of his girlfriend, but she had persisted and his mother reminded Draco that, as a Malfoy, he was still bound to attend the events of other Purebloods, even if more than half the people here were in disgrace and under investigation, himself included amongst that number.

Suddenly Mrs Greengrass screamed, pushing the infant child into her daughter's arms as she fell to ground and began openly, wildly sobbing, apparently entirely unconcerned that everyone was now staring at her like one would a wounded animal or an abstinent Weasley.

Her husband wrapped his arms around her, also lowering himself to the ground as he whispered comfortingly into her ear. Mrs Greengrass shook her head and let out another loud wail, pushing her husband away with one hand while she beat her other one against the dirt and grass, shrieking like some feral creature, sounding inhuman in her grief.

"How pathetic," said Pansy quietly, shaking her head in contempt. " _My_ mother never cried when we buried my brothers. Grief ought to be private, I've always said. No one wants to see you snivel all over the place. It's not at all ladylike."

Draco rolled his eyes but refrained from stepping on his girlfriend's feet to get her to hush. "Your brothers were little kids—and besides, it's not as though you really care, isn't that true? you'd find a reason to complain about the Greengrass family no matter what there is to complain about. You never liked Daphne when she was alive and I've no idea why we're here to see them bury someone for whom you barely held at a level above Potter."

She shrugged, knowing there was no point in denying his accusations. "We were friends once upon a time, you know/ possibly best friends, I'd almost be willing to admit in total confidence. But we could have been friends again, or at least close acquaintances, if life had gone a little differently." She glanced towards the still sobbing Mrs Greengrass. "Did you hear about Millicent and Theodore? Her parents truly are mad, I should think—they've bonded her to Theodore Nott, of all people, the bastard son of Walvarius Nott, and he's got a bastard child of his own now, too. But then again, no one ever accused the Bulstrodes of being high class. Apparently they've given one of Milly's sisters to Marcus Flint, though how _that_ marriage will work, I'll never be able to guess. I heard he was..."

"Mm." Draco was unwilling to comment about the likes of flint. "I suspect if Millicent had grown up looking a little more attractive, she might have found someone who would be willing to love her. But too many people remember how she looked before puberty and lost all of the baby weight. I think her excessive height might not help much either. And with Theo's social standing, he has little choice in who would be willing to hand over their daughters to the likes of _him_. I suppose he'll be disinheriting the child?"

"Who, Anaed?" Pansy glanced at the newborn, who was being held up by her young aunt, then shook her head. "Not from what I've heard, no. Supposedly he plans on declaring her as his official heir over any children that he might have with Millicent."

"I'm sure she'll be glad to know that, as will her parents. Though I would have thought, perhaps, that Gregory might have taken her. I always suspected those two were taking walks by the lake over the last few years, and then some. Or..." Draco glanced around, noting that none of his former dorm-mates were at the funeral. "Are the rumours about Gregory true, that he'll never be seeing the outside of a cell in Azkaban?" Goyle had never been much more to him than a lackey, but the possibility that all of them—those who had once thought themselves to be untouchable—were now just as susceptible to the law as everyone else.

Until now it had never occurred to him that people of his standing could fall victim to consequences as though they were normal, everyday wizards.

"Goyle was an idiot," replied Pansy without concern. "He and his father both, I would not be surprised if they were both given life sentences for their actions." At Draco's troubled expression, she chuckled and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "Oh don't worry, dear, your family is far more powerful than the Goyles, more powerful than any simple fall from grace would ever be able to entirely destroy. You and I, we'll lose some wealth, some standing, but we'll never be able to fall no matter what might happen to us. In the end, we'll come up on top, as we always do. It's in our very nature, our blood."

For some reason, he found it difficult to believe her words, but there was little point in arguing with Pansy. If they were punished then they were punished. If they were burnt by the law, there was little that could be done to prevent such a fate.

The thing that made him most uncomfortable though was the affection with which she kissed his cheek and spoke so candidly about their future together. He would never say that he loved her; their marriage would not be like that of his parents, a bonded pair who found love and passion. Pansy was only his intended, his future bride. This did not mean that he felt anything more than a sexual need for her—and even then, her body could easily be replaced by another.

But he said none of this out loud because doing so would get him nowhere. He would marry Pansy soon enough, and a marriage did not require love.

The funeral had ended, house elves now dumping dirt over the casket as the Greengrass family turned, one one one, and traipsed back towards their house where the wake would be held. Mrs Greengrass was clinging to her husband in an effort to remaining upright.

Behind the parents came the children; Astoria, with her niece still in her arms, and Linelle, who moved on chubby, wobbling legs to maintain the same speed as the rest of her family, who were all so much taller than herself.

As they passed by, Astoria turned suddenly, her gaze falling on Draco. She looked at him with pale green eyes, a strand of dark hair blocking one side of her face. One corner of her lips curled up almost in a smirk, but the motion reversed so quickly, he almost thought that the action had been imagined. Then she walked on and time sped up to real time once more.

"What was that?" demanded Pansy, turning to look at him with a scowl. In contrast to Astoria's full lips, Pansy's rather thin one tightened even further. "Why did she just smile at you, Draco? Why did she look at you in that way? Do you two know each other or something? Are you, what, seeing her on the side now, is that it? she's your new little whore?"

Draco shook his head, not wanting to create a scene in front of so many other high class Purebloods. "Pansy, I've never spoken to that girl before in my life, you know that. I barely ever interacted with Daphne, let alone some little underage sister of hers who pouts her lips and expects the world. I don't _know_ her," he repeated insistently, shaking his head once more.

She seemed to believe him, thankfully, calming down as suddenly as her burst of anger had come over her. Pansy grabbed him by the arm, pulling him towards the house, continuing to chatter in his ear about nothing of real importance.

Technically, he argued to himself, he wasn't lying when he told Pansy that he didn't know Daphne's sister. They'd never spoken before in his life, at least as far as he could remember. But that didn't meant that Draco didn't want to... _know_ her.

But that would have to wait for another day—they had just buried a girl, after all. One day, though. One day, he would have what he wanted; after all, isn't that what it meant to be a Malfoy, no matter what had happened at the Battle of Hogwarts? One day, he would get to know Daphne Greengrass' little sister.

That day would come sooner than he expected.


	2. Broken Contracts

"I've spoken to your father about his decision to rework your betrothal to Pansy Parkinson." His mother didn't even bother to glance up from the papers spread across the dining table in front of her. She pushed away a piece of parchment that curled up around the edges and rolled back and forth for a few seconds. "He would have like to wait until after yours and his trials but I was considering that it would be better to get the process done sooner rather later—our finances are not going to be secure for too much longer and we must use our leverage where we can."

Draco frowned at his mother. "What do you mean by 'reworking' my betrothal contract? What's there to rework? You've been satisfied with our binding for the past twelve years, what's changed now that you're hurrying to undo all that?"

"Yes, well..." She finally looked up from her papers, a frown pulling at her bow-like lips and making her appear somewhat older. "Pansy Parkinson...her family is really not the sort we want to be associated with any more if we intend on showing signs that, ideologically, the Malfoy family has advanced. Her father will almost certainly be receiving some sort of punishment for his actions and for the vast number of dark artefacts discovered on their property."

"They've found plenty of things here at the manor, too," he replied tersely, shaking his head. "And Dad and I were just as involved in the Dark Lord's plans as Nathaniel Parkinson. What could possibly secure our freedom that doesn't also ensure his?"

His mother's eyes appeared to glitter. "Money, for one thing. The Parkinsons pretend to be living at the same financial level as they were a decade ago, but Nathaniel has had to shell out quite a bit of money and there were several years when he was in Azkaban, unable to make money. The other, more recent reason is that _we_ chose to help Harry Potter and then left the battle altogether whereas Nathaniel's daughter—your proposed—was the one who yelled, in front of everyone, for someone to turn their beloved saviour in to the Dark Lord. The common population will want blood and the Parkinsons have plenty to shed. I will not let her take you down along with her family."

Scowling, he looked away, wondering how he was supposed to tell Pansy that they couldn't be together any more because he didn't want to go to Azkaban—it was unlikely that he would escape her wrath unscathed.

"Your father has already contacted Lady Parkinson and had your betrothal contract retracted; I suspect she will be relaying this information to Pansy at this moment or very soon." She looked back down at the mountain of paperwork, a clear sign that she regarded their conversation to be over. There was nothing more that she wanted to say and there was nothing she would allow him to argue about.

Draco sighed, no longer in the mood for breakfast. He knew Pansy, he knew how she loved to blow things out of proportion and of course this would all somehow be pinned on him, with his soon to be ex-fiancée screaming and throwing things and calling him every terrible thing she could possibly think of, although Draco personally decided to end their betrothal and wasn't just as much a victim of his parents' whims as she was of hers'.

"Why would Lady Parkinson agree to break our contract? I'd think, a woman like her, she would want to cling to what little fanciful luxuries she has. it's not reasonable to just dissolve a betrothal like that, not when she knows her daughter will likely be seen as used goods by the rest of the Pureblood community."

His mother exhaled sharply through her nose, muttering, "As though we aren't all aware that she most certainly _is_ used goods." Shaking her head, Narcissa raised her voice to reply, "Petula Parkinson believes that the Malfoy name is just as much under threat as her own. It is her suspicion that you and your father will be imprisoned and myself stripped of all title or wealth. She also believes that her own family will be mostly spared, coming from a lesser family who is still 'suffering' the death of a child from more than five years ago, as though the Wizengamot feels sympathy for any of us—we're scapegoats in the tail end of the battle. They'll purge the old families of all their wealth by claiming that every last one of us are Blood Purists, evil Death Eaters deserving of imprisonment and death. They'll destroy families—tear children away from their parents, sisters from brothers. Lady Parkinson believes that is the Malfoy family that will crumble in all of this and not her own."

It had not occurred to him that his own government could be as merciless as the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. People like him would be wiped out even if they were innocent, just because of the words of the petty who wanted to see big names fail after all this time.

"Harry Potter has agreed to act as a witness for our trials—let me say that again, _for_ us, in defence of our family. If nothing else would save us from the wrath of the Wizengamot, a kind word from their saviour certainly will." His mother's eyes glittered again. "I highly doubt that the Parkinsons will be able to claim any such powerful witness."

His old enemy, defending his family? Draco couldn't imagine it, even if Saint Potter was trying to clear the debt of his mother saving Potter's life. No sane person would defend their very worst enemies, which left them with only two options: either Potter was lying or he'd gone mad. Draco didn't much care for either outcome.

But somehow, Potter had become his mother's personal champion and she would hear nothing against him. There was no point in him trying to convince her not to trust Potter.

And besides, what did Draco know? He'd grown up his whole life thinking he was a Pureblood prince, entitled to everything the world had to give him, but now he knew the truth, that he was just a frightened teenager who got into more than he could handle just to make his father proud. Maybe Potter had also changed and truly did intend on looking past his rivalry with Draco in order to defend those who had protected him and took no life during the battle.

It was highly unlikely, but then again, Potter did love to come across as the hero as much as possible. For him, this would just be one more way for him to win over Draco.

"And you trust Potter to stay true to his word?" he asked rather coldly. "You don't suspect that this isn't some elaborate ploy and he might instead turn on us in the courtroom, to see our demise as revenge for what our family has done to him? After all, there are plenty enough who could potentially profit from our downfall, the Weasleys first amongst them."

His mother, ever the well-trained woman of high society, remained expressionless. "The Weasleys and the sorry ilk like them will profit no matter what—this was their victory, after all. But was it not me who saved him from the Dark Lord in the Forbidden Forest? And was it not you who spared him from the wrath of your aunt in these very halls? No, Potter owes us this favour and he knows it. I don't trust him, but I have no doubt he will defend us to ease his own guilt."

"But because he owes the Parkinsons no such thing, I am to drop Pansy as though she were nothing to me? That hardly seems fair, Mother, don't you think? Who, now, will take Pansy?"

"Don't act as though you suddenly care for the girl, Draco!" snapped Narcissa, temporarily letting her feelings get the better of her before controlling her temper once more, retaining a neutral gaze. "You've taken her purity, her innocence, everything she had without a concern for her personal benefit and when your father chose to break the contract, that relinquished your responsibility to pretend like you cared for her at all, so there's no need to continue the facade. The girl is used, a whore with little purpose, not that she had much to begin with. At best, some lesser house will take her in on the hopes of being named the heir to the Parkinson fortune, which continues to diminish and certainly won't recover now. At worst she will become bedmate to a rich gentlemen with few morals—much as I suspect you would have sought after following your marriage to Miss Parkinson. A loving husband you would not make, not to her, so why keep up the pretence now that you don't have to?"

It would be so easy to drop the issue right then, Draco realised. He didn't love Pansy, that was obvious, and his mother was right and nothing that he would have sought out some other woman to keep him company. But Pansy had been his intended for more than a decade—could he truly drop her so easily just to stay one step ahead in life? Wasn't that sort of behaviour exactly how they had gotten into this situation in the first place?

"You're a Slytherin, Draco, as is she," his mother reminded him calmly, "it is expected that you will look to your own priorities first, the whims of some silly girl from your school days be damned. You must think of yourself, and your future, before anyone else. It's the only way to survive." She looked back to her papers, waving her hand at him to end the discussion once and for all.

It was official—he was freed of Pansy Parkinson, after years of putting up with her for the sake of their future marriage. Draco wasn't sure how to feel about having finally gotten his wish.


	3. Closing the Circle

It was so strange to see how their circle had shrunk in such a short span of time—Crabbe and Greengrass were both dead, Goyle was on the run still, and Pansy had refused to come, not wanting to face Draco so soon after being dumped.

Today it was just Draco—sullen; Blaise—bored; Theo—silent; his bride to be, Millicent—too stupid to have anything to say; and Tracey Davis and Violet Runcorn, the other Slytherin girls, neither of whom were being dragged through any sort of legal battle, though Violet's father had been sacked and relieved of his wand for his work on the Muggleborn Registration Commission. All in all, they made for a sorry lot, not the sort suited for drinking games or any kind of good-natured ribbing as in the old days.

"Do you know when the wedding will be?" Tracey asked Millicent to break the silence. "I heard your little sister is meant for Marcus Flint, so perhaps your parents will do a double wedding. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

Millicent shrugged non-committally and muttered, "I s'pose so," into her drink. She had not yet gotten past her days of being the overweight, often overlooked joke of the Slytherin house, even if that had been several years and twenty kilos ago that everyone mocked her so relentlessly. She'd spent the final three years of Hogwarts merely as Pansy's tall, mute bodyguard or as Goyle's late night walking companion.

"They'll be looking to cut expenses, same as everyone else, I suppose," said Tracey in a quiet voice, doing her best to dance around the fact that hers was the only family represented at the table who would remain mostly untouched by the war. "What do you think about a winter wedding, Milly? Do you think that'd be lovely? Everyone could wear white and you could walk through the snow or have, like, a lily crown—perhaps silver, too, in the colour scheme to avoid offending some of the more traditional attendees."

"Don't you think that Theo should have a say in his wedding, too?" asked Blaise, raising his eyebrows as he clapped the other boy on the back. "After all, he's just as much in the marriage as Milly is."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything when it comes to the wedding! The whole day is for the bride anyway—boys only care about the wedding night—so why shouldn't she be allowed to have a faery-tale ceremony, huh? Besides that, I don't think Theo would protest even if he was told to wear pink dress robes and dance a jig while saying his vows. He hardly says anything."

Blaise shook his head, frowning. "You have an opinion about all of this, don't you, Theo? it's just as much your wedding, shouldn't you get a say in how it all goes?"

Normally, Theo would say nothing and Tracey and Blaise would go right back to arguing. After all, as far as they could tell, Theo held very few opinions about anything and voiced even less of them out loud.

"My father's officially named me as his heir," Theo said in a dull voice, not looking at anyone. "Perseus died in the battle and his wife has been clamouring to get Father to name their son as the heir but he picked me instead and is threatening to write out Perseus' son out altogether."

Perseus Nott, the much older brother of Theo, who was far more outspoken about his views on blood purity than his little brother. Between this and the nineteen year gap separating the brothers, the two had never gotten along very well, nor was the situation helped by the fact that Theo was technically the _illegitimate_ son, while Perseus had been the only child of Mr Nott's loveless marriage.

"Ah," was Blaise's response after a long moment as the rest of the group continued to stare wordlessly at Theo. "Well isn't that absolutely fucked?"

After all, Mr Nott had been toying with his sons for much of the past decade, giving favour to one son and then the other as he saw fit. Theo was actually expelled from his father's home for much of his early years, his brother and stepmother convincing Mr Nott that publicly acknowledging a bastard would not look good for the family.

But now Perseus was dead and there were almost as many years between Theo and his nephew—the infant who ought to be the logical heir and would have the power to sue his uncle once he came of age, if his mother didn't do so first.

"So how are things going with Pansy?" Tracey asked louder than necessary, tripping over her words to fill the awkward silence. "From what I've heard from her mum, she locked herself away in her room for two days after getting the news." Tracey and Pansy had been close friends—as much as that was possible for someone like Pansy—during school and it was clear from her glare that this closeness hadn't ended just because they were out of Hogwarts.

Draco shrugged, unaffected by her taste for him. "It's not as though I was the one who chose to break off the engagement, Tracey. They didn't think it pertinent to ask either of us if we were fine with that, neither of them thought our feelings should be mixed into the situation. It was just as much a business transaction as buying a plot of land—our entire relationship was one large business deal from the day our parents signed a contract to the day they chose to break it. Don't blame me for something I never asked to happen."

The girl crossed her arms and frowned, but Draco merely took a sip of his drink' it wouldn't kill him if Tracey refused to believe that what he said was the truth. She was just one of Pansy's lackeys, a girl only clever enough to know that the best thing to do was whatever Pansy told her to. Tracey's opinion didn't bother him.

"She's very upset, you know. Wouldn't speak to me until just yesterday and even then, it was clear she was practically distraught, insisting that there was no one to love her now that you've tossed her aside so cruelly. Even if you didn't, she always loved you. She _still_ loves you."

"Birds can't love properly," interjected Blaise, chuckling to himself. "Never met a bird that knew how to love properly—they fawn and fuss and they're all terrible shags. What _you_ need, mate," he nodded at Draco, who glowered at him in response, "is a real woman, someone with maturity and experience, not a silly little girl like Pansy."

Tracey smacked his shoulder, hissing, "Blaise! Draco doesn't need one of your whores, he needs Pansy back in his life! Stop trying to fuck with his head, you utter creep."

"His head isn't the only thing that needs a good fucking if you ask me." Blaise raised his eyebrows again, waggling them. "Besides, Pansy isn't what old Malfoy here needs—some shrill bird controlling his every move for the next seventy years? No, thank you. Marriage is overrated if you ask me. If you love someone, there's no ceremony needed—just get them in bed and buy them flowers, that's all. Elsewise you'll end up like one of my mum's blokes. Marriage isn't for love, we all know that; they're for money, land, and titles, nothing more. Honestly, Draco is better off as a free man, untethered by a future bride."

"Aren't you betrothed, Blaise?" asked Violet Runcorn, batting her eyelashes at him. She had recently learnt about her own intended, a man named Oliver Rivers, who was a Ravenclaw in their year that she'd never spoken to in her life. His family was fairly wealthy and Oliver was meant to be in Slytherin like the rest of his family but had instead bucked tradition. Unfortunately for Violet, the marriage had not been called off and she was stuck engaged to a boring near-nobody that shared none of her interests.

"I suspect so," Blaise replied casually, "but if that's the case, no one's ever bothered to tell me who she is. Knowing my mum, though, she's probably some little pet so that I can have some time to 'grow into myself' before I settle down for good."

"As though _that_ were possible," muttered Tracey. "You'll be as immature at twenty-five as you are right now. You'll _always_ be immature, it's just who you are."

"Oh yeah?" he snapped back at her, half-teasing, half-genuinely annoyed. "Well what about you, huh, Tracey? Who're you supposed to marry? Oh, that's right, you don't know either. Hey, Goyle's your cousin, isn't he?" Blaise smirked at the horror on Tracey's face. "Maybe your parents are trying to bring back the tradition of keeping it in the family. wouldn't that be an absolute laugh? I mean, Greg's a nice guy, isn't he—when he's not on the run, that is."

Angered and distraught, Tracey began flinging things at Blaise's head—napkins and silverware—which only made him laugh and the others to move out of the line of fire.

Draco rolled his eyes, wondering not for the first time why it was that he was still friends with all of these idiots. After the events of the last two years, he was so far removed from their view of the world to the point that he was practically living on an entirely different level from them.

"You did the right thing," Theo said quietly, looking intently at Draco, though his voice remained emotionless. "I know it wasn't really your choice to make, but still dumping Pansy was the smartest thing you could do. Her father is dangerous—still on the run, trying to avoid capture? At least your family conceded, yeah? You're a fair bit safer than the rest of us. You've got Potter on your side, after all. Marrying someone with active connections to Death Eaters doesn't look good."

His comment brought to mind that both Theo's father and brother were Death Eaters; one soon to be imprisoned and the other killed. There was no telling how the Ministry would react to Theo, the heir of a Death Eater, even if he hadn't fought, hadn't picked a side the entire war.

"I knew it was smart, but I worry that it wasn't right. My parents will never want to remove themselves from my life and I have no doubt that they're already writing up a contract for some new bride I don't know and whose only understanding of me is that I'm a self-serving Death Eater who deserves Azkaban for either betraying the Ministry or betraying the Dark Lord."

"So?" Theo shrugged, untouched by Draco's complaints. "You _were_ a self-serving Death Eater. Now you can prove yourself to be something different. You can do something the rest of us won't ever be able to do: you can _start over_ , Malfoy, you get a second chance. We're all stuck with our pasts and our misdeeds for the rest of our lives, but you? You get to do something different with your life because your family was the only people smart enough to leave."


	4. Court Hearings (and what that means)

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

 _Your court date has been set for 5 June, 1998 at precisely 8:15 am. The place is Courtroom Seven, under Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt and prosecutor James Tawley. You are represented by Narcissa Malfoy, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger._

 _If you do not attend this hearing, you will be arrested at the earliest convenience of the Ministry for evasion and criminal intent. Any hope of refraining from a prison sentence would be better reflected by good character and compliance._

 _Thank you for your cooperation,_

 _Audrey Gilmore_

 _Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic_

* * *

"Stop tapping your foot like that, it's undignified," his mother scolded him quietly, grabbing his arm and hissing into his ear. "You can't let them know that you are nervous. After all, you took no lives, committed no real crime. If you act guilty, they will have no choice but to assume that you _are_ guilty. So sit up, stay still, and do your best to appear a model citizen."

Draco winced, rubbing the spot where his mother had gripped him, and glanced down the hall. It was just before eight in the morning; he would be spending his eighteenth birthday being accused of some of the worst crimes known to the wizarding world.

Potter and Granger sat at a bench opposite of Draco. A paper folder full of pieces of parchment was in Granger's hands while Potter merely spun his wand around in his hands, an anxious look on his face. Neither had looked at or acknowledged in any way the two Malfoys. Other than the four of them, the hall was empty.

"I don't trust any of this, Mother," Draco muttered, staring down at his empty hands, his grip relieved of its hold on his wand when a grim-faced Auror demanded it from him shortly after they arrived. "Granger's suddenly defending me as well? Don't you think that's more than a tad suspicious, after all?"

"Hush, Draco. The girl holds as much weight as Potter does, you should be on your knees right now thanking her until you go hoarse for what she is willing to do for you, especially considering how you treated the girl while you two were in school. Not to mention that having someone like Hermione Granger on your side at a time like this is one of the most intelligent things you could do if you truly don't want to see the inside of a prison cell."

"Yes, because life has officially become a search for what's best for _you_ rather than ever consider anyone else or how they might be affected."

She glared at him, pursing her lips. "You are a Malfoy and a Slytherin—your first priority should _always_ be yourself and your family before anyone else. At this point, if you aren't looking out for your own self-interests, no one else is. Relying on others is how you fail—it's how we got to this situation in the first place because your father relied on the Dark Lord and I relied on him in turn. Do you really want to end up in this exact same place twenty years down the road because you chose to do what was perceived to be right rather than what is best for you?"

Before he could say anything in response, the doors to Courtroom Seven opened and a twenty-something woman stuck her head out the door and looked around at the four of them, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth when her gaze fell on Draco.

"You may come inside now," she told them, holding the door open for the defence team to shuffle past her. "Mr Malfoy will sit in the chair while the rest of you may sit at the table." She directed Draco to an uncomfortable wooden chair with chains where his hands and feet would go. They rattled menacingly when he got closer.

Draco looked back at the woman, wondering if they were truly going to lock him up for the whole trial. If anything would make him look obviously guilty, this would do the trick.

"The charm's been lifted, for the time being, don't look at me like that," the woman told him coldly, jabbing her hand at the chair once more. "Though in my opinion, you more than deserve to be chained up for the next hour."

 _Thankfully, your opinion doesn't count for very much_ , Draco grumbled in his head before sitting down in the chair, grimacing slightly when the chains rattled but did not wrap around him.

"Are you Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy?" asked a booming voice coming from the centre of the room. It was the emergency Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking at him from a pulpit that raised him far above Draco's head, the stands for the Wizengamot set up behind him, empty as the members began filing in.

"Yes." He would not give them the satisfaction of complying with their vindication of him but he also knew it wouldn't do well for him to talk back from the very beginning.

"And you understand that you are being charged with conspiracy, attempted murder, intent to cause dissent, and torture? The punishment in full will be a payment of eight thousand galleons and fifteen years to life in Azkaban. Do you wish to confess to these crimes or choose to contest the charges with the understanding that, if found guilty, you will be punished to the full extent of the law? A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Yes." He watched as the last of the Wizengamot members filed in, some glaring at him or shaking their head. There were fewer members than normal, as several had been pulled from power following accusations of murder and being connected to the Death Eaters.

Kingsley nodded and, as the last person sat down, broke into the trial, interrogating Draco about every single thing he had done since June of last year. Between the Minister and the prosecution office, Draco hardly had any time to process the questions being thrown at him, let alone have time to answer them in a coherent manner. His mother stayed quiet, sitting behind him with a Potter and Granger, though she was visibly separate from the two.

Every now and then, Granger would jump in with some bit of legal jargon that didn't make any sense to Draco but made the Wizengamot nod in agreement. She reminded them that the only person whose death Draco was connected to was Albus Dumbledore's, of whom Draco had merely disarmed rather than killed and that he had willingly walked away from the Battle of Hogwarts without attacking anyone.

He wondered why Granger chose to lie so boldly—or had they forgotten the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement? No, he had not cast the spell but neither had he stopped Crabbe. He had done nothing but jump on Potter's broom and flee, leaving his friend to die.

Potter, for the most part, remained quiet, only occasionally jumping in to corroborate something Draco or Granger said or to answer a question directly concerning him. For someone who was supposed to essentially be _the_ thing that might possibly help him escape Azkaban, Potter seemed unusually reluctant to say anything.

As the proceeds finally slowed, Kingsley shuffled his notes before looking over at the three teenagers. "Before we make our decision, are there any last statements that the defence would like to make? After this, you will not be allowed to speak."

Draco opened his mouth to make one last please for his freedom, but Potter cut him off, standing off and drawing all attention to himself as Saint Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, cleared his throat to speak.

"Draco Malfoy and I have been school rivals throughout all of Hogwarts," he said quietly, though the room around them was so silent that he hardly had to speak to be heard. "We hated each other—I thought Malfoy was immature, narcissistic, self-absorbed, and quite possibly the worst person I ever met." Potter blatantly ignored the glare Draco shot at him. "And this was absolutely true, up until the sixth year. Malfoy, as a sixteen year old _boy_ , was forced to take up the role left to him by his father or risk punishment at the hands of Voldemort." There was a visible flinch around the room. "Could he have said no? Yes, that was an option, but it was an option that would have gotten both he and his mother killed. I don't at all agree with his decisions over the last two years, but it still has to be understood that Malfoy was only doing what was right for his family, the same as those of us who fought on the side of the light. So just...keep that in mind, okay? He's just a kid who was doing what he thought was right for his family."

As he sat down, the Wizengamot began to speak amongst themselves, chattering about whether self-preservation was a good enough reason to let off a known Death Eater. Draco twisted his head slightly to look at his mother, whose face was as pale and uncertain as he felt. There was no telling what the Wizengamot would decide—he might end up spending the rest of his life in Azkaban alongside Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle and Mr Nott and even his own father, just another criminal that was thrown in a cell and forgotten.

Kingsley raised his hand, silencing the room once more. "Those in favour of imprisoning Mr Malfoy for life?" Hands raised all over the room, too many for him to count and Draco's stomach dropped. He was going to prison, wasn't he? "Alright, and those in favour of the lesser punishment of three thousand galleons and the relinquishment of wand until Mr Malfoy's twenty-first birthday?" Hands rose—twenty, fifty, two-thirds or near enough, and his heart sped up in excitement as he realised that the hands were actually in his favour. "Then you are released, Mr Malfoy. Payment must be given before the end of the year and your wand will be released to you in three years—case dismissed!"

And with that, he was a free man, or as close as he could be when the entire wizarding world still considered him to be a villain.


	5. Celebrating Newfound Freedom

He didn't love her, couldn't love her, not with that shrill voice and pug-like nose of hers. Pansy was the bothersome, irritating sister he never had, the two of them growing up side by side as king and queen of their own little court, surrounded by loyal followers who were all aware that they were the two on top.

And then the Yule Ball had come during fourth year and along with it were instructions from Mother on how to ask Pansy to the ball because, as his intended, of course they would be going together. Draco hadn't even known before that letter that Pansy was his bride to be and he didn't appreciate the ribbing from Blaise about having no say in his dating for the evening.

That was the night he'd finally noticed Violet Runcorn, dolled up in a blue sequin dress that nicely complimented her eyes. She was there as the date of Andrew Flint, but it hadn't taken much coaxing to convince the brunette to share a dance with him and leave their dates behind. Within a year, despite his public courting of Pansy Parkinson, it was Violet who most often was invited underneath his sheets, always with the barest of Silencing Charms so that the other boys knew he was still so far ahead of them, even if he was prematurely saddled with a nagging bride.

And now he was free of Pansy for good, free for the time being of anyone at all since his parents had not yet selected someone new for him to court.

So was it truly a surprise when, less than a day after his trial, Draco found himself standing outside of Violet Runcorn's home, wondering how best to get her attention without anyone else in the house noticing his presence.

Their relationship had begun officially in February of sixth year, a way for him the stress of serving the Dark Lord as well as a way for Violet to finally get one over Pansy, her competitor for all their time at Hogwarts.

The two girls were always jealous of each other, chasing after the same boys, wearing similar robes to prove who was prettier. But after the Yule Ball, that competition changed, for Pansy was the first of them to be told the name of her future husband, which made her smug, knowing her future was secure as the mother to heirs of the richest wizarding family in all of England. But on the other hand, Violet was given the chance to sleep with whoever she chose, unlike Pansy, who was tied exclusively to Draco and his whims. Untethered, Violet flirted with many a boy and paraded them all in front of Pansy with a smirk gracing her lips.

And then the ultimate prize, Pansy's intended himself, dropped into her bed in a moment of angry, heated passion that he swore was a one-off thing that he came back to time and time again, warning Violet under threat of death from telling anyone about their affair.

She'd never breathed a word of course, but that did not mean that a girl as clever as Violet couldn't find a way of rubbing it in Pansy's face. Certainly, his fiance had accused him enough times to make that much obvious.

"If you're looking for Vi, I'd suggest not gaping up at the house, unless it's part of your whole _thing_ to get caught by one of the house elves." Bryony Runcorn, her long wave of golden hair tied back in a braid stretching past her waist, shook her head and looked at him in disgust—though there was also amusement, a sign that she was willing to continue her role as co-conspirator in her older sister's schemes that had been going on for the past sixteen months. "Dad may be locked up for the time being, but Mum's still here and she's just as likely to curse you into tomorrow. She never did like you and now there's a good reason not to."

"I don't see why not since I was never convicted of a crime. Besides, what are you doing out here, Briar Rose?" He rolled his eyes at the teenager. "Don't you think you should run inside and join the rest of the family? After all, they wouldn't want their precious daughter to be caught cavorting around with social pariahs and scum like me, now would they, even though the Minister himself cleared me of all charges."

She scoffed, waving a hand in the direction of her sister's rooms. "And you think they'd be fine knowing that their eldest _is_? And don't call me Briar Rose, you now how I hate that stupid name. I'm not a princess in need of a knight."

The girl said this like it made any kind of difference to him, as though he were truly expected to give even half a damn about her feelings or what she wanted. He didn't care about anyone, not any more, nor did he think he ever had, really. Wasn't that the Slytherin way that his mother kept telling him to follow? Think of himself first and others when it was convenient to do so?

"Besides," she continued, crossing her arms, "what about that girl of yours, Parkinson? Last time you left Vi in tears, swearing that _this_ was the time you'd finally stay loyal to your intended. I never believed you for a second, but Vi's foolish when it comes to love, she still believes in things like happily ever after and true love. She'll believe anything you to tell her—you break her heart every time you walk out the door, swearing it's over."

"Apparently you're behind the times, Briar Rose. I'm a free man, unlike your sister. _I've_ got no intended, not any more, thanks to my parents. They've decided Pansy isn't good for me, see, in these post-war times, and her parents think that I'm the worst possible man to be permanently tying their only child too. But unless something has changed since the last time I talked to Violet, she's still betrothed to Oliver Rivers, which means _I'm_ not the one cheating this time."

"My sister, a whore? Colour me surprised." Bryony shook her head again, unimpressed. Then, a bored expression on her face, she turned to look towards her sister's rooms once more. "Anyway, if you're going to hang around, I suppose I ought to warn you that Posy and Lark are sleeping and they are both still innocent—if you scar them with your night time activities involving my sister, I'll slit your throat and laugh all the way to Azkaban."

"Yeah, yeah. I suppose the three of you don't have much to do until Hogwarts gets repaired and you can go back to being perfect little students, act like everything is normal again. Meanwhile, I'm going to head upstairs and see if I can't move your sister's wedding date up a little closer by tricking Rivers into thinking he's already started on making an heir."

Draco walked off to where he knew Violet slept, but he only made it half a dozen steps before Bryony was calling his name again, making Draco turn around and huff sharply in her direction, wondering what the girl could possibly want now.

"Hey, Malfoy?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "I can tell you one thing that I'm sure you'll be grateful to hear. It won't be _me_ your parents choose for your intended, which means after you finally give up on my sister for the last time and toss her away like nothing, we'll probably not see each other very much afterwards. In fact, I don't think your parents will find my future husband to be the sort of company you'd want to associate with if your intentions are to appear to be truly reformed from this point forward."

"And who, exactly, is your husband?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Besides, I thought the bride wasn't usually told who they're to marry until their seventeenth. Aren't you, at best, fourteen years old? You're too young to know your intended."

"I'm sixteen, you twat! And for the record, my parents feel, given everything that's happened, I might as well know now. My intended is your old friend, that dolt Gregory Goyle. Or, rather, he will be as long as he doesn't get himself locked up in Azkaban like his father."

Draco reeled back, trying to imagine the hulking, dim-witted Goyle courting and one day bedding blonde, petite, and snarky Bryony Runcorn. The idea of the two of them being joined together permanently in marriage more than shocked him—it downright horrified him, the very notion of it. That Mr and Mrs Runcorn would ever willingly hand their daughter to Goyle—

But that wasn't his place, was it? Instead, he merely shook his head at the girl. "Well, let me be the first to congratulate you on your nuptials, then, if they truly are still forthcoming. For now, though, I really am off to blank all thought of that from my mind by heading up to your sister's room."

* * *

Violet remained on the bed, slowly buttoning her nightgown back up while he slipped into his pants, wondering to himself how it was that he had the self-control to not immediately turn back around begin ripping her clothes right off. Violet was the best for that sort of thing—taking his mind off of the issues of the real world, distracting Draco from how he really felt. It was quite the shame that she was already betrothed and that her father's actions meant the Runcorns were just as socially shattered as the Parkinsons.

He would have preferred her over any other eligible girl of roughly marrying age; even if Violet was occasionally a ditz, she always seemed to know exactly what it was he needed to feel whole again, to feel like a man rather than a scared boy.

"My parents have decided that I have no point in going back to Hogwarts to do seventh year over again," said Violet, running her hands across the bedspread, smoothing out the wrinkles with a tense, anxious expression on her face as she bit at her lower lip. "We're to be married in October—this October. Oliver will be going for his NEWTs, but I guess no one thinks I'll ever amount to anything more than a housewife so why ought I bother completing my education just to raise children? It's not like my own education is important."

"Well, don't your parents have a point? You never struck me as the kind of girl who was interested in anything even close to resembling real work. After all, haven't you been raised your whole life purely with the understanding that you'd be someone's wife, the mother of his children?"

Violet shook her head, anger colouring her tone as she replied, "But why have we been raised this way in the first place? Me, my sisters? No wonder Millicent Bulstrode wants to kill herself, having to rely on Theo for the rest of her days, knowing she'll be used goods if she ever tries to leave and that, as her husband, Nott will be allowed to do whatever it is he wants to. He's a bastard, and they say that bastards only ever beget more bastards—hell, maybe he'll have his little Greengrass spawn named as heir just to get back at his father, punishing Millicent for something she couldn't control. It's just not fair, shite like this."

The statement reminded him of his own arguments that he had no control over the breaking of his betrothal, that he was simply living by the whims of his parents and the fact that nobody seemed to believe him when he insisted that was the truth.

"Before we...er, broke up, Pansy told me that was precisely what Theo intends to do. I don't think he's trying to hurt Millicent or anything, but think about it from his perspective—losing the love of his life, being wrapped up in his father's schemes, suddenly finding out he's tied to a girl who is in love with someone else? Besides, I hardly think he really will go through with naming the child his heir. A girl, a bastard, and one already claimed by her maternal family? Theo and Milly will have their own children and get past all of this eventually."

She frowned and shook her head at him, unintentionally mirroring her sister's actions from a few hours previously. Violet was unimpressed by his lock in favour of being angry about her own situation and misfortune.

"I'd so much rather be betrothed to you, Draco," she said finally, sighing loudly and still running her hands over the bed despite the lack of wrinkles. "Oliver Rivers is so—so—so boring! We've gone on three chaperoned dates so far and all he ever talks about is the reconstruction and the history of his family or even broom regulation as though I would ever be interested in such a dull thing. I don't know what I did to deserve being stuck with such a boring prude for the rest of my life. I bloody well hate him."

"I've always felt the same way," he confessed, "even back when I was just starting out with Pansy. Ever since the Yule Ball, I've felt like I'm only truly myself with you. You understand me, Violet, or at least you come the closest to understand." It was the most honest he'd ever been.

She jumped off the bed suddenly, eyes wide, and cried, "We could run away together, Draco! To France, marry, and live happily ever after together away from our families and all of these rules and expectations they shove on us!"

Her excitement caught him off-guard. No matter how Violet might have made him feel, he would never say that sensation came anywhere close to being love, but rather was merely very strong lust. He certainly didn't want to run away with her, not to France, not anywhere.

"You know that isn't an option. Both of our families are under Ministry surveillance and most likely will be for some time, which means we'd never make it out of the country. Besides, you wouldn't want to marry me, not really—I don't love you, I could never make myself love you and no matter what my mother thinks, I simply don't have the Slytherin in me to pretend otherwise and I definitely don't have the social standing. You're better off with Rivers, boring as he is. At least he's safe, socially that is."

This infuriated Violet, who began hurling pillows and dress robes at him, loudly yelling that if he didn't love her, then she might as well kill herself rather than resign to a pathetic, simple life. Violet shrieked when he tried to reason with her and pushed Draco towards the bedroom window, making him wonder if he had truly angered her to the point that Violet would push him out without a thought to how he would get from the third floor to the ground below.

Before she could try, though, he threw the window open and fled out to the nearby tree before jumping down and running across the Runcorn property in a panic.

"You bastard!" Violet's voice followed after him, a painful and wounded scream that would have haunted Draco's dreams if he still knew how to feel for others. "I never want to see you again, do you hear me? Stay away from me, you fucking arsehole, I bloody hate you! Never come back or I'll curse you into the next millennium!"

Her words were drowned out as Draco Apparated away from the house, his breath coming up short. Her reaction did not surprise him in the slightest—he did not love her and had not expected love back, but Violet truly was a foolish girl still. To seek anything more than lust from him would be outrageous. It was why he has always been fine marrying Pansy, because he did not love her and knew she did not really love him.

He would never find love, not in a world like this. Love stories didn't exist for people like him—Pureblood heirs, villains, Death Eater scum. Truly, he preferred it that way.


	6. A Family Meeting

Once again, dinner was the solemn, two-person affair, mother and son silently eating, the sound of their cutlery louder even than their own breath. His father was in Azkaban, where he would be spending the next three to eight years, depending on well Lucius played along with their little game, pretending to go along with all of the new changes of the world that people like Saint Potter or Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt were attempting to construct.

"Your uncle may be coming over at the end of the week. he's being rather obscure about the ordeal so I can't say for sure, but if he does, it will be your duty to entertain your cousins, particularly the younger boys. I strongly suspect your uncle is seeking for ways to acquire the family manor from its rightful heir and I wouldn't put it past him to make attempts to tie you to his youngest, your cousin Lucille. But we've seen the effects of tying cousin to cousin before, in my own family—you will politely reject all proposals, of course, though as your only uncle, we must at least humour the man and pretend to consider his request."

Draco had never much cared for his uncle Haffrey, the younger and only brother of his father, nor did he care for Lucille, the youngest of the three daughters. His uncle always made thinly veiled jokes about Draco's own father being unequipped to properly run the Malfoy family and it was obvious to all that he thought one of his three sons ought to be the heir over Draco, seeing them as more fit for the role.

Mother absolutely detested her brother-in-law, but it was far too big an insult to expel him from the family home for her to ever dare to try such a thing. That was an act that could only be enacted by the head of the house, who was currently in Azkaban, or his heir, and Draco needed all of the allies he could get right then, which meant upsetting his uncle would be a dangerous thing to do.

"I don't suppose Aunt Aquila could be talked into also visiting, perhaps to relieve some of the tension that will undoubtedly come with having Uncle over?"

Aunt Aquila—Father's older sister and the wife of the last remaining member of the Black family, Perseus, who had, bizarrely, made no claim to the family fortune following his cousin's imprisonment and later death. In contrast to Uncle Haffrey, Aunt Aquila was respectful of the family order but even better than that was the fact that she was fun. She had been the one to teach Draco to fly when he was only four, leading to her broom getting stuck in the tree and Draco to break his arm. The whole situation had been swiftly dealt with, his arm repaired, tears dried, and Aunt Aquila bribing him into silence with chocolate frogs and the promise of more flying lessons in the future if he simply didn't tell Father what had happened.

He hadn't seen his aunt, nor any other member of her side of the family, since before the war began, when they left for Germany in order to stay out of the war.

Mother stared at him, at first bemused by his request before her features softened in understanding. "I don't see why not. We could make it a family dinner, the first in such a long time. I shall write to them both after supper, how does that sound to you?"

* * *

"Draco, my boy, how are you?" Uncle Haffrey practically crowed, clapping him on the back. He was an odd reminder of Father, with the same long, blond hair and icy grey eyes but the rest of him was all _Bulstrode_ , from Draco's grandmother, while Father was pure Malfoy through and through, the same as his father before him.

Through gritted teeth, Draco replied, "I'm very well, thank you, Uncle. How are you?" He went to shake his cousins' hands but paused when he noticed that the oldest of the three boys—the younger Haffrey—was missing. "Serbius, Brutus," he said, "it's nice to see you but where is your older brother? I had things that I wished to discuss with him."

An awkward silence filled the parlour as Draco looked between his relatives and realised that he had made a grave mistake, even if he had no idea what it actually was he'd done.

"Haffrey was not quite so fortunate as you to have someone to rescue him from his own foolish mistakes. Though not yet seventeen, he chose to fight that night in order to...protect his younger siblings. We lost our son that night on the battlefield." His uncle's voice was steely and Draco noticed that thirteen year old Serbius, the new heir, was trembling visibly.

Mother covered her mouth with one hand before demanding of Uncle Haffrey, "Why didn't you tell us about this? Why didn't you write to Lucius? We're family, we could have helped with the grieving process and eased the pain, as family should."

"No." Uncle Haffrey scowled, a dark anger flashing in his eyes for a brief second. "We have earned the right to bury out children without interference from anyone else. Besides that, it was a personal, intimate funeral, with only our immediate members in attendance. I do not think you would have felt welcome, having ended the war on a different side from us."

He might as well have slapped Mother in the face, not so subtly telling her that, amongst the Purebloods, they had failed the community just as much as they had seemingly failed the Light side by nature of being Purebloods. To Uncle Haffrey, they were no longer quite _family_ , having different end goals following the war. Draco and his mother fit in nowhere and with no one.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I have been on my feet all morning with Barrett so I'd like to retire to the sitting room if you don't mind. Or perhaps the stuffy old people would prefer to stand around and exchange more jabs like we don't all understand what's being said, those of us old enough to do so, anyway."

Ophelia Gamp—formerly Black—ducked the swat directed at her head by her smirking mother and pointed to the infant in her arms as proof that she was tired. She winked at Draco, who subtly shook his head back at his cousin.

"That sounds lovely, Ophelia, quite a lovely idea indeed—in fact, I have already told the house elves to assemble something for us in the largest sitting room, so if you wouldn't mind just following after me, I will do my best to show you the way. Of course, I must say it often feels that this house is too large, with far too many rooms for me to properly keep track of these days." She gave Uncle Haffrey a smirk of her own, knowing he was most likely burning up inside with the thought that these rooms should be his instead.

The whole family followed after Mother, with Draco trailing at the end to make sure that Uncle Haffrey and Aunt Drisella didn't pinch anything in their desire to won that much more of the Malfoy name, as though they didn't attempt to strip the manor of valuables every time they visited only to protest their innocence when caught.

Ophelia and Aunt Aquila also fell back, young Barrett still in his mother's arms; they walked on either side of him like bodyguards. Draco, without turning his head, took in the sight of his oldest cousin, whom he hadn't seen since she graduated at the end of his third year when she had wed the heir of the Gamp clan, a man she was betrothed to since infancy.

She didn't look like much of a Malfoy or even the daughter of a Malfoy, not with her dark brown hair and high cheekbones that so obviously screamed of the Black family. But Aunt Aquila, too, looked much more like Grandmother with her strawberry blonde hair. And that odd physical difference had carried onto Ophelia's children—nearly five year old Cassandra and two year old Edmund, who took mostly after their father's family.

Father always used to say, after one too many drinks, that it was truly only he and his cousin Altaire who chose to carry on proper Malfoy bloodlines, which Draco never understood, considering Uncle Haffrey's spawn were just as pale and cold as his own family.

"Your mother has ended your betrothal to that Parkinson girl," Aunt Aquila suddenly said. It was not a question; as usual, his aunt had acquired knowledge by means of her entangled web of gossip, sitting through boring old Pureblood women prattle for hours just to catch a smidgen of relevant information. "And now my brother has invited himself to dinner, along with his daughter, not yet betrothed and of marrying age. What do you suppose he wants?"

"I suspect it's a tad more than to discuss the current political situation. Merlin knows that Uncle has been after what belongs to Father and me since he was old enough to understand what being the spare truly meant."

"And what about what it means to be the daughter, especially when I was the eldest child, but cast aside purely on the grounds of my gender? Perhaps _I_ should have had another daughter in order to win back my father's fortunes." His aunt chuckled. "Though money and titles—I am lucky that my husband also does not care for such things. Life is easier this way, allowing Lucius to be the heir and the rest of us to simply live our lives how we want to."

The family settled in the largest and most richly decorated sitting room, Draco dropping into a seat by his mother's side, with his younger cousin Lucille placed uncomfortably close by his other elbow. She smiled up at him, batting her eyes in a way she clearly thought was charming and becoming but that Draco only found served as a reminder of how closely related they were. Lucille could have been his younger sister, given their eerily similar appearance.

Uncle Haffrey cleared his throat and looked at Mother. "Now, Narcissa, I know you are a very busy woman, as I myself am always finding myself pulled in a thousand directions, so let me cut to the chase. Your son," he nodded at Draco, who gritted his teeth in response and faked a smile, "is of eligible age to marry yet he has broken off his betrothal contract to the Parkinson girl. I presume that, considering all the work Lucius has put into keeping his line as the running one, you'd want to find a girl for Draco soon enough before people begin to think there's something wrong with him. And, as no one that I know of has heard anything about a new bride waiting in the wings, I suspect that one has not yet been selected."

Mother narrowed her eyes at her brother-in-law as the rest of the room drew in a deep breath, wondering if Haffrey was truly about to ask what they all suspected he was here to ask. Was he honestly going to suggest that they become like the Blacks, pairing cousin and cousin just so that he could get back into his father's house?

"What you say is true—Lucius did not have the time to consider a new bride before the Ministry locked him up and they have not yet allowed us to write to him so that I might begin the process of selecting someone in his name. But what does this have to do with you being here in my sitting room this afternoon?"

"I merely worry that, if you don't move quickly, there will be no one for your son and the main line of the Malfoy family will die out or else be swallowed up by some inferior house. I came here today with a suggestion that, since your son is of age and Lucius will be in Azkaban for the foreseeable future, you would allow Draco to create his own betrothal contract with myself acting as his beneficiary to make sure the deal goes according to plan?"

"And this is because you wish to put your own line as the one that carries on the name of Malfoy?" Mother waved her hand at Lucille, whose cheeks burnt pink at being called out. "You've paired off the elder girls but left Lucille unclaimed all this time in the hopes that such an opportunity as this would open up for you to grab power?"

His uncle chuckled and shook his head. "I've already signed the contract for Lucille to marry that Abbott boy, don't worry about that, I wouldn't risk the legitimacy of the heir by pairing cousin with cousin." He smirked at the blonde woman. "Actually, I've come with an entirely different request for a bride, dear Narcissa. I instead wanted to recommend my wife's niece, Astoria Greengrass, as the perfect woman for your son."


	7. The Most Suitable Suitor

Astoria Greengrass—the girl who had looked at him as her family paraded past at the funeral of her eldest sister. Draco hadn't given the younger girl too much thought before, considering that she was just the quiet little sister of one of Pansy's dorm-mates, one he hardly ever noticed when she _was_ still alive.

If Draco recalled, the younger Greengrass was thin, waifish, with dark hair and pale green, so different from the regal and icy cold Daphne, who ever looked at Draco with mere disdain. But beyond the physical description of Astoria, there was nothing of the surviving daughter that he could think of; not her interests, hobbies, dreams, or desires. Though did that truly matter, seeing as how he'd known Pansy since they were children and he still couldn't have even said her favourite colour with any real confidence?

"You name Astoria Greengrass as suitable?" His mother grew pensive, looking away from the rest of the family. "Sophronia _has_ always been a good friend and I suppose that Granville was one of the few who was wise enough to remain neutral to either side. It would improve our own standing and reputation." Her gaze swivelled to her brother-in-law, becoming suspicious. "What I don't understand, though, is the benefit you get out of establishing such a union."

"She is my niece, and as you say, she comes from good stock, which I should know since my wife is the sister of Sophronia. But the girl is the eldest surviving Greengrass child, though she _is_ a girl. Sophronia, I hear, is heavily pregnant, and if the child is born female then the riches of the Greengrass name will be given to Granville's brother, the new heir. I have it on good authority that they are looking for someone to take their daughter now that they are about to have two very young children as well as their bastard grandchild. They would even be willing to take a smaller bride price if that's what is necessary."

Draco looked between his mother and uncle, wondering how he should respond or if he should respond at all. Although he saw no reason not to, considering this was his wife and his future they were discussing. Why shouldn't he be allowed to jump in and mention how he felt?

"What I don't quite understand, though, is the actual benefit of you helping me to find a wife. What on earth could you possibly get from binding me to your niece, a girl with no power or wealth to begin with? I know you, Uncle, and you are Slytherin to the core. How will this help you? I like to know what it is the snakes ask for before I let them take a bite."

"As I told you, Draco, my daughters are all married or set to be soon enough. I have given up the fight for my brother's title—after all these years, I finally realise that I am better off as the spare rather than in the spotlight. People expect so much less of you and it is easier for your actions to go unnoticed. It is why Lucius sits in Azkaban and I paid a mere seven thousand galleons to walk away, my only true punishment being the loss of my beloved son. And now that I've given up my dreams of running the Malfoy name, I realise that it is my duty to step up as your uncle and help you to succeed as best I can. This is why I have already gone to such effort to find the perfect bride—it's to help you, dear nephew, so that you can carry on the name."

There was a sudden clatter that drew their attention away, causing Draco to miss two very important things—his uncle's malicious smirk and the suspicious express of his mother.

The house elves—Missy, Bobbily, and Yatz—had arrived with trays of tea and biscuits. Missy, the most senior of the house elves, bowed low to Mother and Draco, sending the trays floating to the coffee table in the middle of the room. With a snap of her fingers, each member of the Malfoy family found themselves holding a teacup that quickly filled itself, the sugar cubes floating over to drop in the appropriate amount for each person.

Mother thanked the elves with a wave of her hand, sending them scuttling from the room as quickly as they'd arrived. She indicated to the rest of the family that they could begin drinking by taking a sip from her own cup first, as was her right to do so as the host. Uncle Haffrey raised his cup to her, a small smile making his lips twitch, before taking a sip, more than half draining the cup of its contents, apparently unperturbed by the heat of it.

"Drisella, dear," said Mother suddenly and sharply. She turned to look at the dark-haired woman and pursed her lips. "The girl is your sister's child, so you would know her best of all. What is the young Greengrass like? Would she be good for my son as you are so good for Haffrey? After all, as I remember it, you were the one to arrange the marriages of your first two daughters to the Runcorn cousins, a job rarely done by a woman with a capable husband by her side, yet I've heard no complaints about either marriage. Therefore, I believe I can trust your judgement about this young lady who has not even been introduced to society yet."

Her sister-in-law glanced nervously over to Haffrey, who nodded. "You're right, Narcissa, it was _I_ who found husbands for Guinevere and Abellia, both of whom have given their husbands heirs already." Her daughters—Guinevere with her four children, and Abellia, who was early into her second pregnancy—both avoided eye contact with their aunt and mother, embarrassed to be spoken about so publicly. "I can assure you that, as her aunt, I am easily capable of attesting to her character and fitness as a wife and mother, if given a few years for her maturation. The girl is only just sixteen less than a month ago, a student, and her father would not hand her over unless her studies have been completed. My sister Sophronia, like myself and our other three sisters, never graduated, nor did the sisters of my brother-in-law. Because of this, he has sworn that all of his daughters will complete their schooling before he will allow them to marry." Her voice took on an almost haughty tone as she continued, gaining confidence. "Personally, don't see how the last year or so of education could truly benefit a woman, but if my sister's husband insists on educating his children, it is not my place to speak against him."

"I graduated from Hogwarts before marrying Lucius," replied Mother in a clipped tone. "And I would be proud to have a daughter-in-law with some thought in her head, provided she knew when to use it and never forgot her first duty is to provide an heir. Will the girl be able to do such a thing? I've heard much about the difficulty your sister has had in giving her husband an heir. Her eight pregnancy and no living son to show for it yet."

"She will give an heir!" Aunt Drisella cried, her whole face going red. "I can assure you of that, her duty will be fulfilled. After all, we, each of my sisters has had sons, each giving their husband an heir and if Sophronia's child is not a boy, you will benefit that much more by being able to lay claim to the inheritance of your daughter-in-law."

"I think we ought to at least consider the Greengrass girl," interjected Draco suddenly, looking to his mother with the confidence that was so often found in the young. "We could meet with her father and see if he would be willing to betroth his daughter to me. Besides, it is not as though there are a terribly vast number of families throwing themselves at our feet, begging for my hand and for my ring. This is our chance, Mother."

His mother seemed at least a bit swayed by Draco's words, more so at least than anything her brother-in-law and his wife had said. She nodded curtly before sweeping her robes around her and standing up, inviting the family to follow after her into their most elaborate dining hall for supper, leaving behind uneaten biscuits and half-drank cups of tea. With a snap of her fingers, the house elves appeared once more, serving food to everyone at the table. Once everyone had a plate, Mother waved off the house elves with the exception of Missy, whom she ordered to fetch the necessary paperwork to begin a betrothal contract before she sent the older elf out of the room as well.

"The girl is just sixteen, you said?" asked Mother, writing down her notes on the spare parchment retrieved for her by Missy. "That would put young Lady Greengrass in the same year as Lucille." Her gaze swivelled to look at her youngest niece, who practically blanched. "You are familiar with your cousin, I presume?"

"Er..." Lucille glanced down at her lamp chops and nodded mutely. How had this all gone so wrong? She'd thought they were coming to her cousin's house for the purpose of becoming betrothed to him; Edgar Abbott was just some noisy prat from Gryffindor that she'd never spoke to nor did she have any idea that she was engaged to him until Father announced it. "Yes, Astoria sleeps only tow beds over from myself—all of the girls in my year in Slytherin are my cousins and we all get along fabulously, as cousins can. I'd say that Astoria is a friendly girl, even to those whom she ought not to be, but she always preferred to stay in the shadows of those around her rather than stand in the spotlight. Astoria is a docile person, a good candidate for Draco's wife."

Draco's thoughts drifted to Pansy and Violet, wondering if a docile woman was the kind of thing he really wanted or needed. After all, wouldn't having such a person for his wife quickly grow boring, leading Draco to want to abandon her? That wasn't to say he wanted someone quarrelsome and heavily opinionated, but he also really didn't care much for the idea of marrying someone who agreed with every single thing that he told her without ever questioning it.

Pansy tried too hard to please him all of the time, changing her opinions to match him and constantly clinging to his arm to show her affection without ever realising that he found her behaviour distasteful at best. Violet, on the other hand, found very little she could agree with to the point where Draco almost thought she did it on purpose to annoy him and prove that he couldn't control her since Violet wasn't his betrothed.

If he could be happy with Astoria Greengrass as his future wife then she would need to have a mind of her own but also know her place when it came to submitting to his will.

"Do you suppose that it could be arranged that Astoria will be able to attend the actual writing and signing of our contract so that I might be allowed to meet her right then instead of six months from now or some other equally long time from now? I have no intention of returning to Hogwarts—nor do I think they'd let me back in—so I wouldn't even be able to meet my future bride until the Christmas holidays at the earliest. I think I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, having known my former bride since I was six years old but knowing very little at all of the new one that I hope to marry. We ought to be able to see each other."

Mother and Uncle Haffrey glanced at each other, each having their own internal debate about whether such a thing should be allowed. But as long as the girl stayed silent during the drafting of the contract, the couldn't find any real issues with Draco's request.

They fell quiet for a while longer, the Malfoy family too busy enjoying their supper and fine wine, with the exception of Serbius, Brutus, and their younger nieces and nephews and second cousins, who were all still too young for anything stronger than a glass of pumpkin juice.

Draco slowly cut his meat, wondering if this would be him in ten or fifteen years, preparing a contract for his own children. It had occurred to him before that the betrothal process had grown outdated, even more so now that the Pureblood breed was dying out and found themselves unwanted following the war, though he doubted his parents would be very fond of the idea of their grandchildren being allowed to pick their own spouses or marry for love. The tradition would die out eventually—a hopeful thought and promise for many generations but not yet accomplished by more than a few rebellious members of Pureblood society.

And Astoria _was_ pretty, he recalled, from having seen her at Daphne's funeral. She was very attractive, at least at the same level as her sister had been if not more, and his only real issue was that it would be like marrying a stranger. They would have to fit into a few years the same growth of affection and understanding that he'd been given to create with Pansy, which was an utter failure, to say the least, as anyone who'd known the couple could attest to.

Perhaps this girl would be different, though, he thought to himself as he took another bite of lamb. Perhaps Astoria Greengrass truly was the perfect girl for him. How would he ever know if he didn't give her a chance?

He could only hope she would do the same for him.


	8. The Greengrass Heir

_**In honour of today being the day of my birth, here is this week's chapter a little ahead of schedule.**_

* * *

Astoria was three years old when her first younger sibling was born, a girl named Serenia who died of disease only four years later. By the time she was five, her brother Reinauld took his only breath and then died; this had left Mother too distraught to carry another child until she delivered her fourth daughter in the winter of Astoria's fourteenth year. And now, just over a month past her sixteenth birthday, her mother was struggling to give birth to her final attempt at creating a surviving heir. If she succeeded, this would be Astoria's fourth brother, the third she would ever get to meet.

She was of the opinion that Mother, nearing forty-one, was far too old to have a child, especially in such tumultuous times as these, but when had her parents ever cared to listen to Astoria's opinion? It wasn't as though she was the oldest surviving child they had.

Her other female cousins, whom she had been told to entertain as her mother gave birth, were gathered in a semi-circle on Astoria's floor—Roselle, a few months older than Astoria and her nearly thirteen year old sister Honoria, as well as almost twelve year old Keira.

On the bed sat the eldest of them all, twenty-four year old Elizabeth, who was herself pregnant for the fifth time in as many years, having already given birth to two sons and two daughters. She had long, dark hair and high cheekbones, highly reminiscent of the Blacks, to whom she was connected through her maternal great-grandmother.

Being the eldest by a great number of years, Elizabeth essentially took over Astoria's room without a second thought, settling her large stomach down on the pile of cushions she'd set out for herself with a wave of her wand, letting her gaze roam around the bedroom before finally settling on Astoria, a curious expression on her face.

"Are you excited about all of these sudden new changes in your life? A niece, a new little sibling, and now possibly a future husband?" Elizabeth's eyes glittered with interest. "You'll be married to my husband's cousin soon enough and we can raise our children together as a proper family, prancing around the manor."

Brow furrowed, Astoria had to sit on her hands to keep herself from blurting something out in surprise. Married? To whom? Elizabeth's husband, Silvanus, was a Malfoy and she could think of no Malfoys who were of considerable age to marry her. "I think you might have misheard, dear cousin of mine, for I have no betrothed and certainly not anyone from the Malfoy family has come to court me. My father, perhaps, might have selected a man for me, but I have been told of such thing as of yet."

Her older cousin pursed her lips. "Are you sure? I heard about it from Guinevere Runcorn, who says she was there as the decision was being made." She looked away, a pensive look on her face. "I suppose you could be correct, that your father has betrothed you to Draco Malfoy but has chosen not to tell you yet. Could you pretend to be shocked when he finally does tell you, though? I would prefer to not have Uncle Granville angry at me for ruining the surprise for you."

Astoria had never spoken to Draco Malfoy—he was two years older than she and while Daphne and Draco were associated with the same group of people, more or less, the elder Greengrass sister had never said a word about him one way or another. That didn't mean she'd never heard anyone complain about him, though; his own cousin, Haffrey, always ranted at length about how despicable the older boy was, how undeserving of the Malfoy fortune he was. Others also spoke against Draco, calling him little more than a pompous bully.

She had crossed paths with him and his betrothed as her family headed back to Gresham Hill Manor and she briefly glanced at the two, recalling what she had seen written in her sister's diary, but then Astoria found that her parents were too far ahead and people were beginning to stare.

That short glimpse into his eyes hadn't revealed anything about his true nature—brat, bully, or simply misunderstood? Astoria couldn't find enough information about him to be able to come to a concrete conclusion and so the idea that her father was working to pair Astoria to such an unknown figure made her nervous, assuming that it was true at all. If she was lucky, Elizabeth had heard the facts incorrectly and she was not set to marry someone who could potentially be so dangerous. Not to mention that he'd been betrothed not so long ago to Pansy Parkinson.

"I think you'd look pretty in a wedding dress, Tori," interjected Honoria, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Eddy got married two years ago, remember how beautiful Abellia Malfoy looked? Like something out a faery-tale." She sighed happily. "Elizabeth, what was your wedding like?"

"Don't you remember, Noria? You were, like, seven when I got married—hell, you and Keira were the flower girls, I have the pictures from that day in our house." The younger girl shrugged. "Well, don't worry, you'll definitely remember Astoria's wedding when it happens, especially if her intended truly is Malfoy. Repercussions or not, Narcissa Malfoy would never pass up an opportunity to go all out and make a big show of one of the most important moments of her life. She'll parade Tori around for hours."

Pretty dresses and big, fancy weddings had always been Daphne's things, not hers. She never considered the fact of her future marriage beyond knowing that it would happen eventually and she would be expected to just accept whatever her husband demanded of her. It had been Daphne, though, who dreamt about being married and being a mother, hanging off of her husband's arm as they went from from charity ball to the next.

Why was her father doing this to her, marrying Astoria off to a man she didn't know, whom everyone was aware was a Death Eater even if he was convicted of the crime? Would she be pulled from school like her mother and her aunts, wed before she was graduated or even of age?

"I hope my future husband is rich and loving—a respectable man who can keep me secure and cares for our children and myself. What about you, Elizabeth? You're the only one of us who is married so far, tell us what it's like. Is Silvanus the husband you always hoped for?" Roselle looked longingly up at her eldest cousin, hoping for a good romance story.

The other girls also turned to look at her eagerly, even Astoria, despite her stomach beginning to hurt from all of this talk of marriage. Elizabeth so rarely talked about her husband or anything that entailed being a Pureblood wife and mother. It was almost as though she was reluctant to share that life with them, though they couldn't understand why. Roselle and Astoria had always taken that to mean that she hated Silvanus Malfoy; Astoria became that much more uneasy about her future marriage while Roselle simply doubled down on her dream of a perfect husband.

"I suppose that he is a kind enough man. We've been married for nearly six years and I have given him an heir and a spare already. My husband dotes on our sons, granting their every request, though our daughters he largely disregards and ignores, as he does to me. But I suppose that I would prefer to be mostly forgotten rather than beaten and abused, as my brother-in-law does to his wife. We've remained largely free of punishment from the Ministry and he still has his job, which keeps Silvanus happy. I...would not say that our marriage is a happy one, for I do not believe that an arranged marriage could ever be such a thing, but it could be worse for me, and for my—for our children. He is not a cruel man."

A shiver passed through Astoria as, from the other room, a wail echoed; the new baby had been born finally, the one that was meant to save their family if it was a boy or else was one last disappointment and would require Father to bequeath everything to Astoria and her uncle Eddard once he passed away.

She started to open her mouth to ask if they thought the baby was a male or not when her door was thrown open and Elizabeth's brother, Charles, flung open the door, gazing around at them all before breaking into a grin. "A boy!" he announced as proudly as if it was his own son. "A boy has been born, an heir to the Greengrass family. Octavius Graham Greengrass, the heir, has been born today. Uncle Granville says if you hurry and are quiet, you may come see him briefly."

As her female cousins squealed happily, a chilling sensation washed over Astoria. Wasn't she supposed to be happy about having a new brother? Shouldn't she also be jumping up and down, yelling about how excited she was? Yet all that she could think of was the siblings she'd lost—William, who had died four years before she was born, Charles, Serenia, Reinauld, and most recently, Daphne. It was why Mother rarely let Linelle out of her sight and why she'd been so cautious about this most recent pregnancy. What if they lost this child too, whether it be in a few months or in a few years? Their family would be in the same place as they were before, lacking a proper Greengrass heir.

"Are you not excited, Tori?" asked Roselle quietly, squeezing her cousin's hand and looking deeply into her eyes. "You have a brother now, a baby brother, and you're safe to marry without fear that our uncle might try to claim your inheritance as well as his own portion."

She nodded slowly, trying to paste a smile on her face lest anyone else catch on to her less than optimistic attitude. "Why would I not be happy that my mother has given birth to a son, which we've been waiting to see happen for so long? It merely worries me that something might happen to Octavius before he can reach adulthood and will leave us right where we were before he was born. I have lost five of my seven already and I don't know what I or my mother would do if anything were to happen to Linelle or Octavius before their time."

Another wave of fear washed over her as she considered that, in the future, she would also be expected to go through all of this pain and possible loss with her own husband, knowing that she might too lose her children at horribly young ages. She didn't think she would ever be able to handle such a thing and didn't understand how her mother could handle it nor how she could keep trying for children with the understanding that she might lose them all.

Continuing to speak to Roselle, she confessed, "I do not want to marry anyone. Not Draco Malfoy or any other man that I might be coerced to marry. I'm only sixteen, but I'm already so worried about the day I'll be expected to give my husband sons—what if I can't have children or if I can't carry them to terms? Or even worse, if they're born and I become attached to them only to lose my children like I have lost my siblings? I might even only give birth to daughters and he could set me aside for someone new."

Roselle squeezed her hand again and sighed deeply. "That is several years away from right now, Tori, don't fret about these sorts of things yet. You're still a girl, as am I, and marriage isn't the sort of thing we ought to be tearing our hair out over. You'll marry one day and have many sons and all will be well so don't be so panicky about it. For now, you have your brother Octavius on this day and at least you can be happy while you have him and you can love your brother for as long as he is alive, whether it be for only an hour or for the next hundred years." Then she kissed Astoria on the cheek before turning to Charles, who was urging for the girls to follow after him to meet the new baby in the next room.

They left her bedroom, with Astoria bringing up the rear, still wringing her hands over how she was supposed to feel about all of this. Could she really go into that room and kiss her mother and father on the cheek, knowing they were going to subject her to this same fate in a few years?

But she said nothing, following after her cousins. She kissed her parents and placed her hands on Octavius' head as Linelle ran into the room and demanded to be lifted up so that she could also be allowed to see the new baby before giggling at the sight of his bright pink face and bald head that made him look like a silly old man.

Astoria glanced in the direction of her father, wondering to herself if he truly had already tied her to Draco Malfoy without her knowledge or acceptance. It wasn't really her place to reject such an offer, of course, but she still held the hope that her father would at least bring it up to her over dinner at some point before he signed away her entire life to a boy she knew next to nothing about nor was particularly eager to tie herself to permanently.

"Are you alright, dear?" Mother asked gently, and the only thing Astoria could do in response was nod without saying a word. She could do nothing to change her fate—there was no point in stressing about it at that moment.

Instead she kissed her mother once more, doing her best to look happy.


	9. Breaking New Ground

It had been just over two months since his uncle first brought up the possibility of Draco being bonded to Astoria Greengrass and finally they had managed to schedule a meeting with Granville Greengrass to discuss marriage with him. The other man claimed at first to be busy following the birth of his son but too much time had passed by this time and he was obligated to at least entertain their request before making his decision.

So here Draco found himself, standing at the doorstep of Gresham Hill Manor along with Uncle Haffrey; Mother did not feel well enough to attend and was saving her energy for a meeting with Father later that week.

As he looked around with interest at the apple trees that decorated the front gardens, his uncle tapped him sharply on the shoulder, telling Draco, "Now, you must remember to be respectful and polite the whole time, nephew. We are guests here as the ones who are coming to demand a prize while Mr Greengrass holds all the power to reject us or to request any price that he could possibly think of. Though," Haffrey rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I will certainly need to push the issue of a woman of her age having no betrothed. Surely there must be something wrong with her for this to still be the case."

Draco didn't respond, instead focusing on the sound of footsteps coming up to the door only moments before it was thrown open and they were greeted by Sophronia Greengrass, an infant in her arms as she looked from Haffrey to Draco, making a poor attempt to keep the obvious distaste off of her face.

"Hello Haffrey, young Malfoy," said Sophronia curtly, a false smile on her face. "Please, follow me into our dining room. I am afraid ours is a house that is perpetually short of assistance, as my husband does not look fondly upon the notion of house elves." She reluctantly moved out of the doorway so that they could come inside after her. "Normally, for these sorts of things, we would take you to my husband's office to make such a deal but I would prefer to not let my young daughter into a dark room with a man she does not know. Not to mention that we have raised her with the understanding that her father's office is off-limits and to allow her in now would only confuse such an upbringing."

In the dining room sat Granville, his own parchment of demands for the marriage set in a nice stack by his side.

A few seats down was Astoria, who looked up as the two Malfoys came in. She looked very much like her father, the dark and utter opposite of the blonde, ethereal Daphne. Her eyes widened as they met Draco's and she blushed, turning her head away so as to let her gaze fall back to the table. The girl did not look sixteen, even with an unmade face. Perhaps it was because he was so used to Pansy's heavily made up face that only served to give her the appearance of a twelve year old that was trying far too hard, but Astoria already struck him as far more mature and respectful than his first betrothed ever was.

"Ah, Haffrey Malfoy, how lovely to see you again." Granville stood up and moved around the table to shake their hands. "And your nephew, Draco? Hello, hello, welcome to our not so humble abode here at Gresham Hills. This is my daughter Astoria, my...eldest." A pained expression crossed his face at that statement. "As you might have heard, my beautiful wife recently gave birth to our son, Octavius, and between that and some changes at my main office, I've been terribly busy or else I certainly would have scheduled this meeting with you far earlier. After all, I have clearly put off finding Astoria a husband for far too long as she is nearly an adult now. Perhaps I was afraid of losing her to marriage as I have lost so many of my other children to illness. But she is within a year of being of age and I must recognise that a woman needs a husband."

Going by the look on Astoria's face, she did not seem to agree. She crossed her arms and glanced away from all of them once more. At that moment, Sophronia kissed her husband on the cheek and offered to prepare the quartet something to eat and drink while they went over their wedding proposals, which would likely take a long time.

Granville pulled out chairs for each of the Malfoys before circling around the table and sitting down once more for himself, a welcoming smile on his face as he indicated for them that he was ready to proceed with their meeting.

"Very well, Mr Greengrass, shall we begin?" asked Uncle Haffrey, pulling out his own collection of papers, the things that Mother and Draco had spent the last two months preparing. "Now, Lucius offered the Parkinsons a one thousand galleons for a dowry price along with a four hundred a year allowance that would be increased by two hundred in reward for each child born—one hundred for the females, obviously." He smirked at Astoria, who stared blankly back at him. "We could arrange for a similar setup, though as Narcissa has left in her notes, she is willing to go as high as a fifteen hundred galleon dowry. What do you think of that, Granville? We would even go so far as to deed you the home of Murmank in France if you desire."

The other man ran his hands through his hair and sighed, not even casting his eyes in the direction of his daughter. "Fifteen hundred, you say?" He looked down at the notes on his side of the table. "I would be willing to take twelve hundred and your submission of Astoria's allowance. It is very...modern, I think, very progressive, and we certainly need more progressive moments such as these. Murmank may stay with its proper owners, for I have my own lands in France that suit their purpose well enough."

Draco wondered if no one had ever told Mr Greengrass that the Malfoys, as well as many of the older Pureblood families, had given their wives small allowances in order to sustain themselves in case anything should happen to the head of the household. He was honestly more surprised that the Greengrasses did not follow that same train of logic, that someone like Mrs Greengrass, should her husband died, would be left with no means of financing herself.

"Yes," lied Haffrey with a smirk still on his face, "you are exactly right, we Malfoys are striving towards a better future that benefits all members of the family in order to lead to happier, healthier families and homes. Now, moving on to the next point, I have been told that you would prefer for Astoria to complete her schooling before Draco can be allowed to formally propose to her, which we are obviously also on board with. An educated wife is a proper thing to have and our family also needs time to build itself back up from the most recent rash of embarrassments that have so grossly stained the great Malfoy name, my own brother's imprisonment included. It is wisest to give a few years for Astoria to accomplish what she needs and for us to recover from this strange new ideology that we've suddenly been tossed to. But surely you can agree that the marriage ought to take place prior to the twenty-first birthday of my nephew?"

Mr Greengrass started to nod along with this as well, but Astoria suddenly leant forward, asking, "And what about a job? Would I be permitted to have some sort of occupation even after I'm married, as long as I've given the Malfoys their heir?" Her eyes burnt with strong emotion as she looked around at the three men sharing the table with her.

It was her father who chuckled and patted her on the head like she was a puppy or something of the sort. "Oh, dear, I don't think you ought to be doing such silly things, not when Draco will already be giving you four hundred galleons a year. Why would you want a job as well, when your only job should be to manage the household and carry children to further the family name of your husband? We are progressive, but not to such a degree as what you ask! Getting a job is unnecessary and I have no doubt that Draco sees this the same way, don't you, young Mr Malfoy?"

"Oh." Draco had never before considered the possibility of his wife working; Mother did not ever express a desire to work, nor did Aunt Aquila or Aunt Drisella. In fact, he couldn't think of a single Pureblood woman who held a real job. Even if his uncle were trying to make them seem more open-minded, this request went a tad too far, as Mr Greengrass himself pointed out. "Well, Mr Greengrass, you are older and far wiser than I am and if you are against your daughter holding a job then who am I to disagree with such a notion?"

Astoria turned her burning gaze in his direction, cheeks turning further pink with frustration and disgust to find that her future husband was just as outdated as every other man in her life. No matter where she went, her full freedom would not be granted to her as she would simply be passed from her father to her husband without a second thought to what _she_ wanted.

"Well then, I see no reason to include such nonsense in the contract if we're all on the same page," replied Granville jovially, not noticing the near murderous expression on his daughter's face. "What about the failure to instate an heir?" Here, the Greengrass patriarch appeared nearly embarrassed. "As you may know, my wife and I have had some difficulty in creating an heir, as my most recent son is the fourth one we have attempted for and while I do not think the same suffering will follow Astoria, there is the slightest possibility this might turn out to be the case. My personal recommendation is that if three girls are born, but there is no heir, or if ten years of marriage have passed with a similar lack of results, then the marriage may be annulled so that your nephew may seek a new wife and my daughter shall return to our home."

"Make it eight years and we have an agreement on that matter. Malfoys _always_ have children quickly into marriage." Judging by the ever growing smirk on his uncle's face, Draco guessed this was another jab at Lucius and Narcissa, who were married for almost seven years before successfully producing their own surviving heir, Draco himself. "I have no doubt, though, that this marriage shall be a fruitful one in no time."

Though the other two men continued talking about the varying elements of what constituted a proper Pureblood marriage, Draco drowned out the sound of their voices in favour of watching Astoria carefully, wondering how she felt about all of these plans for the exact nature of how the two of them were expected to spend the rest of their lives together. Did she like him at all or did his intended view him as little more than something she was being forced into, a mere obligation to fulfil the contract? Did Astoria find him attractive in the same way he thought she was?

Another question at the front of his mind was whether he wanted to get married in the first place, even to someone who looked like Astoria Greengrass. He knew their wedding would be, at best, two years from now, after she was finally graduated but would Draco be of a marrying nature when he was twenty or twenty-one years old? Would it really even matter how he felt or how Astoria felt? They would have to marry eventually regardless, assuming that no reasonable explanation could be given for why they should be allowed to go free, though this would only free them from having to marry _each other_.

"What is your opinion about that, nephew?" asked Haffrey, suddenly drawing his attention back to the group. He raised his eyebrows upon noticing that Draco hadn't been listening and chuckled darkly. "I was asking Granville what he thought about allowing Astoria to spend her holidays with you and your mother, at least in part since you will not be attending school with her. After all, it can never be considered a bad thing for a courtship that the couple get to know each other a little better as long as they practise discretion."

Draco nodded absently before something occurred to him out of the blue. He looked up at his uncle with a thoughtful expression. "Uncle, I am a young man still, with a terribly short attention span, especially since I know very little about how contracting a marriage works. I strongly suspect that my hopeful intended feels much the same way." He nodded at Astoria, who maintained her stony gaze. "Perhaps we might be allowed to take our leave in the next room for polite discussion in order to properly introduce ourselves to one another?" He strongly suspected his uncle was more than pleased with this opportunity to get Draco out of the room so that he could entirely take over the whole process himself.

"I have no issue with this—what about you, Granville? Let the children run off and play while the adults remain behind to talk business? After all, as my nephew says, this surely cannot be very interesting for someone as young as they are, such boring talks we have?"

Teeth grinding, Draco had to remind himself that this was what he wanted to avoid snapping at his uncle for referring to them—and more importantly, _Draco—_ as mere children.

"Very well," announced Mr Greengrass, clapping his hands together and nodding his head vigorously. "Yes, yes, you two run off now and have a tad bit of fun so we can get the boring business out of the way. Please, go enjoy yourselves in the room next door with treats, tea, and hopefully a newly developed friendship between the two of you."


	10. Awkward First Greetings

The young couple stared mutely at each other for several long minutes, neither willing to be the first one to speak, to show that first sign of weakness by giving in to the merely stifling silence. There was a clearing of a throat, a small sniffle, and someone sneezed, but still neither of them said a word, merely eyeing each other sharply, almost sceptically, as though sizing up the person that they were being bonded to for life. The lack of speech hung heavily over their heads, practically drowning them I their own obstinate nature, their stubborn demeanour.

It was likely they would have sat there in silence until it was time for Draco to leave if Astoria had not suddenly sucked in a dee breath, feeling a prick in the fingers of her left hand. She glanced down to see that a pin cushion had been left on the cushion next to her that she accidentally placed her hand on. The sight of it brought tears to her eyes, not only from the small bite of pain from touching the pins, but also due to the memory of Daphne the pin cushion brought up. Her sister loved to sew, a task that Astoria never found much success in.

"Are you okay?" asked Draco, though no real worry coloured his tone. "You should pay more attention to your surroundings, you know, or else that might lead to worse consequences in the future than merely pricking yourself with a bloody cloth sack." He frowned, noticing the tears in Astoria's eyes. "Surely it didn't hurt _that_ bad. Why are you crying?"

She shook her head, not wanting to express her grief, to explain it to this man—no, this _boy—_ who did know about her nor did he seem to care about her in the slightest. "My apologies," she choked out, wiping the tears from her eyes, fists balled as she turned to look at Draco. "Of course I wouldn't want to offend you with my emotions, how could I forget that my naturally fragile nature would cause great discomfort to you."

In response, Draco snorted, not willing to let the girl chide him into an apology or anything of that nature. "I've never understood the emotional instability nor do I particularly care to learn now. If you're going to cry over a simple prick to the finger, I shudder to think how you will handle childbirth in a few years' time." At her glare, he raised his eyebrows. "What, are you opposed to em commenting on a fact of life? Or, no, don't tell me, you think you'll somehow get out of ever having to give birth to my children? I assure you, Miss Greengrass, this isn't something you can just escape by pouting."

"You're a prat, do you realise that, Draco Malfoy?" Her nose flared in anger as Astoria barely contained her desire to punch him. "I certainly hope that I don't give you a child within eight years of marriage so that you can drop me as quickly as you did Pansy Parkinson. I thought that maybe you could end up being a decent person, but you're just like every other man I know, only concerned about how to get a girl into your bed with no concern for her feelings or health."

If she thought a few weak insults that he'd heard a thousand times before would possibly hurt him, then Astoria was terribly naive. What did he care if she spent their whole marriage hating his very existence? She would still be required to marry him and he would ensure that an heir was born before the eight years were up and as his bride, Astoria had no choice but to submit to him and what he demanded of her.

"I've heard awful things about your father—what he did to people in the 1970s and early 1980s. I've also heard about some of the things you did in the name of You-Know-Who, nearly murdering Professor Dumbledore, helping to torture muggles and muggleborns. But somehow the Ministry has allowed to go free, despite all of the crimes you committed."

"Free?" Draco was angry now, furious that he was being judged by some silly little girl who didn't understand what he had gone through. "You think I got off 'free' just because I'm not in Azkaban? I gave them money, I gave them my wand until I turn twenty-one years old! I'm not allowed to use Porktkeys or leave the country for three years, making me a near prisoner in my own home as though I wasn't in that situation over the past year! I barely ever leave my house anyway, nor does Mother, for fear of the sorts of reactions that the public might have to our existence, just like how you're reacting to me at this exact moment."

The girl wrinkled her nose and huffed, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "For fuck's sake, don't give me that bloody crap about how difficult your life is when you're the one who hurt people. You could have said no or run away or done something behind your father's back to help make the world a better place but instead, you fell in line and followed every order you were given, so don't try to play yourself as the victim, Draco Malfoy."

What the hell did she understand about his role in the war? She was just some dumb kid who hadn't even sat for her OWLs yet, but trying to pretend like she knew so much more than he did, acting like she was clever because the option to pick sides was available to her. No matter what Astoria—or anyone else—thought about him, staying neutral, or worse the idea of joining the light side, hadn't been something he could do without losing his life. And there were no doubt people who thought he _should_ have died, but Draco wasn't interested in being a martyr. Martyrs had their stories created for them and he preferred to be the author of his own tale.

"Perhaps you're right," he finally grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away from his potential bride. At her raised eyebrows, he continued explaining, "what you said about me not being a good match for you due to my supposedly antiquated views on women. Maybe I ought to go in there and call the whole thing off. It will crush my uncle, but I despite the man anyway so that won't hurt me in the slightest. Clearly, we are not suited for one another and there's no point in starting the whole marriage off with a facade."

"You would set me free just to spite your uncle and to...what, prove some point about how, underneath your cold exterior, you're truly a noble man?" It was clear from her tone that Astoria didn't believe a word Draco said.

"Why shouldn't I? You clearly hate me despite knowing only the absolute bare minimum about me. I've done nothing to you personally and this is the first conversation we've ever met, but you've made up your mind and I don't have the energy or desire to convince you otherwise. It will no doubt he difficult to find someone new who would be willing to marry me but I'll do it eventually and who knows, maybe you'll find your utterly perfect prince charming in whatever faery-tale world that you're still apparently living in. I don't know about you, but arranged marriages are a part of the society we live in and I wouldn't expect my wife to love me in the beginning but I do have an issue with the idea of her hating me forever either. So if you want, we could walk into the next room and call this whole thing off."

Mouth hanging open, Astoria found herself with nothing to retort. It was rather twisted logic that he was using, but somehow she couldn't fault him for it because it was clear that he at least meant everything he was saying—or was perhaps a very good actor. Either way, it didn't mean she agreed with marrying him and would not be swayed by words.

And then it clicked for her; he _was_ a Slytherin after all and she knew what kind of people got sorted into their house. "You're trying to trick me, that's what this is, isn't it Malfoy? Somehow, by making me feel like I'm not good enough for the likes of you, I'm supposed to fall in line with all your impractical demands and become your perfect little housewife."

"You are...almost obstinately stupid, aren't you? Just so wilfully...ignorant. I mean, I'm trying to be honest, I'm trying to save us both from something that we would regret just six minutes after the nuptials are done. Every minute that passes, I dislike you that much more and I can tell you didn't like me before I even showed up. But see, the difference between you and I is that I at least gave you a chance to prove yourself whereas you based your entire opinion of me on newspaper headlines instead of taking two seconds to actually get to know me. And you're sitting there right now, feeling so high and mighty just because you think you _have_ given me a chance, but the thing is, you were always full of preconceptions which means you couldn't have ever given me a fair shot of showing you who I truly am. Who I _really_ am as a person rather what I am according to the opinions of the public."

She sighed deeply. "Very well then, Draco Malfoy, what are you _actually_ like, beyond the opinion of the public? Please enlighten me as to what a gentleman you are so that I may stand corrected? Please, I'm so curious."

"What do you think I'm like, Astoria? That I'm a bully, a monster, the worst kind of person who could ever exist? I know what everyone says about me because they've been saying those sorts of things since I was a child. After a while, you just stop listening to it all because you've heard it a thousand times before. I'm a prat, yes I know, along with a prick and an arsehole and just absolutely awful. I was a Death Eater because my father was a Death Eater and because I was terrified of what might happen if I said no. I mean, this is all I knew, all I ever understood, that I had to follow my father in whatever he told me to do without questioning why. I should have questioned it, I know I should, but when it's all you know..."

Draco trailed off, staring into space, clearly lost in his own thoughts, having almost completely forgotten that Astoria was even there. It was weird to see him like that, stuck in some distant place where nobody else could ever be allowed to go.

He'd been quiet long enough that Astoria was starting to worry something was mentally wrong with him. She opened her mouth to ask if he was okay when the door to their room opened, revealing Mr Greengrass, looking between the two young Purebloods. Draco blinked rapidly and glanced up, being drawn back into the real world with a look of utter confusion on his face as though he'd forgotten where he was.

"Are you two ready to come back inside? We've gotten everything settled so the only thing left to do is sign the damn thing and start considering when would be a good day to get married." Mr Greengrass smiled at the two of them, holding his hands out in what was clearly meant to be a welcoming gesture that did nothing to welcome anyone.

Draco opened his mouth to tell Granville to call the whole thing because it was obvious they were entirely incompatible but Astoria cut him off, getting to her feet and smiling demurely at her father. "Of course, Father, we're absolutely ready, aren't we, Draco?" She smiled down at Draco, who continued staring at her in total bewilderment. "Come on, my father is not the most patient man, isn't that right, Father?" Astoria walked over to the blond's seat, pulling him to his feet, her smile nearly slipping into a smirk.

He stumbled after her, holding onto her hands and trying to make sense of how he had gone from rambling about his personal life to being led into a room so that he could sign himself to a girl he knew very little about and who apparently despised his guts—but not as much as she claimed. Add to that the fact that she was willingly _leading_ him to this mess left him entirely baffled. He understood being a proper Pureblood, following the rules, but this was some strange level of Slytherin conniving. What could she possibly get out of going along with this entire bizarre charade? He couldn't think of anything.

But they both signed their names and Uncle Haffrey pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky, insisting that they all commemorate this wonderful moment of creating such a wonderful new union. They said nothing against it, signing their lives away, with a due date of less than two years.

* * *

 _ **To the guest review (and all other reviewers, actually, because I love you all): Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts on my story as it really does mean a lot to me. I know the question that gets asked the most often is 'hey, when is your update schedule because it seems super eclectic and not at all organised!' Unfortunately, though I really do try to stay on top of my writing, I am in my first year at university and have had to make a lot of adjustments in how I manage my time. Therefore, I write whenever I can and then do my best to edit and publish on either Monday or Thursday (oops). I do promise to get a new chapter up once a week. Again, thank you so much for reviewing and I hope you're enjoying the story.**_


	11. Drinks with Old Friends

Because she was only his betrothed, Draco was thankfully not expected to go see her off to her sixth year of Hogwarts, which meant he was safe from having to face the public for that much longer. He wasn't ready to go out and interact with the real world and was utterly content to spend as long as necessary far away from the probing eyes of those who wished to see him flounder and fail.

There had been an article in _The Daily Prophet_ about his unofficial engagement to Astoria that been roughly sixty per cent half-truths and forty per cent a smear campaign to make it seem like he had tricked the Greengrasses into signing away their eldest surviving child to the evil and malicious Malfoy family to convert her to the dark side.

Mother insisted he that he just toss the morning paper away and pretend they'd never seen it but the incident only further cemented his desire to never interact with the outside world ever again.

Remaining indoors, hiding in the shadows, his skin turned a shade of pale not yet seen before. His hair grew out, unkempt and lifeless, while the bags under his eyes only became that much more prominent. He looked not far off from his appearance towards the end of sixth year, haggard and constantly on edge. Draco grew thin from the lack of food, weak from lack of sleep, and bored from the lack of activity whether it be mental or physical, beyond brief walks in the garden.

Theo stopped by a few times to play chess or drink Firewhisky while spending much of the time complaining about the lawsuit he was being forced into against his sister-in-law to remain in the position of power that he hadn't wanted in the first place. He invited Draco to his wedding to Millicent, mostly out of a sense of obligation rather than any real desire to have him there, though, as Theo kept insisting, it was honestly nothing personal. He was just wholly against being forced into marriage with a sad, moping girl who said even less than Theo did.

A few times, when he'd had the proper amount of alcohol in his body, Draco was even willing to put up with Blaise's existence for very brief periods of time, though there was very little to talk about outside of how fucked up their lives had become as of late and how unfair it was that they'd gotten caught in the middle of an utter shit storm.

"You know, I finally figured out who my intended is," Blaise confessed one night, his eyes barely able to stay focused on anything in particular for more than a few seconds. "Mum finally told me because she thinks maybe we should get married by the end of this year, which is definitely not going to happen if I have anything to say about it. But for fuck's sake, she should have told me sooner instead of waiting so long to drop such a bomb on me."

"Who is it, then? Who's the unlucky future Mrs Blaise Zabini? Is it the youngest Bulstrode? I heard she's crazier than Milly."

"No, it's Tracey Davis of all people." Blaise, hands over his face, peered at Draco through his fingers and sighed deeply. "I mean, Tracey and I...does that make any sense to you? I used to imagine all the weird and wild sex such a pent up little bird like her would be into but now that I know I'm stuck with Davis for the rest of my life, I can't make myself care about her in the slightest. I never wanted to get married to begin with and I...Mum should understand that she hates the idea of being married just as much as I do, but now she's paired me to some emotionless whore who only cares about her hair before she'd care about anyone else."

Three weeks later, Blaise came back to announce that his mother was also engaged to her newest husband after being single for just over two years following her most recent husband's suspicious death not long after it was discovered he was sleeping with one of Blaise's aunts.

"And the craziest part is that I think she might genuinely have feelings for this guy, Dagworth-Granger or whatever it is he's called. She actually talks about him beyond how much money he has and Mum has even mentioned taking his name— _actually_ taking his name! She's never done that before, not even with my father, who she supposedly loved _so much_."

Beyond the problems of his friends, Draco soon found that Mother was also having issues of her own. Father had rescheduled their past four meetings before finally, officially cancelling their most recent one without giving any reason or explanation. It was clearly bothering his mother on a fundamental level since there were often days that she wouldn't, or possibly couldn't, get out of bed or eat more than a few scraps of food that Draco insisted that the house elves bring to her until she had no choice but to eat the meal, since he refused to let the elves leave until she'd tried to get something down, no matter what it was.

Life was not going as he had ever expected or dreamt of, full of uncertainty about the position he would wake to the next morning, never mind a month or a year from where he was. Draco had been written to by several of his family's companies seeking to separate themselves, to create distance between them and the Malfoys. He had no choice but to placate those who had the grounds to do so and they lost a sizeable chunk of their fortune in the process—nearly fifteen per cent, Draco discovered when he was forced to go through the account for the first time in his life.

Father had never prepared him for this sort of life, for the idea of their family falling on hard times hadn't occurred to either of them since Father thought that life would be as it always was. After all, he survived one round of trials back in the early 1980s and never really considered that there would ever be any more and certainly not the sort that would land him in Azkaban. If you believe, after all, that you will live forever then what would be the point in preparing an heir to follow after an immortal man? That was how Father always lived.

But Father was not immortal nor was the family name, obviously, as they had so clearly fallen on hard times. Fifteen per cent, to a man like him, so used to living as royalty, was as much a blow to him as losing fifty or sixty per cent would be to someone like Potter, or ninety-five per cent if he were a Weasley.

September bled into October which seemed to just as quickly become November, with less than a month until his betrothed would return from Hogwarts, which would no doubt mean the beginning of many formal holiday events, some of which would require his attendance whether he was wanted or not. Though he and Mother had fallen, they were yet to tumble so greatly that their presence would be forgotten in proper society. He would have no choice but to go out into the wider world and interact, though he so desperately desired to never do so again.

Mother left her chambers now, on very rare occasions, and often spent much of that time drinking wine and criticising Draco's every move, from the robes he wore to the manner in which he sat in his chair during dinner time. He slouched, he scowled, he slurped; whatever could be critiqued was a hundred times over. It nearly made Draco wish for her to fall back into sullen silence, though he did understand that this sort of behaviour at least meant that she was on the road to returning to her usual self. He simply wished that her recovery did not have to exhibit itself against him when he was only trying to do his best to save both her and their family.

He pushed forward in an effort to secure what he could before they lost absolutely everything, though he had very little knowledge of how to actually go about doing such a thing. Mother was of almost no use, citing that Lucius Malfoy was not the kind of man to allow her involvement in any sort of business transaction and she didn't have the faintest idea of where to begin, nor was she inclined to start now.

Draco sent out letters to those who did not attempt to dump his family, thanking them for their loyalty and fealty to him, urging them to choose the wisest path, to remain on his side no matter what might come. The Malfoy family was not weak, he insisted, nor would they easily succumb to the pressure of a world that so desperately wanted him to fail. At his stockholders' request, Draco scheduled a board meeting but made sure that they all understood he would take no action of any kind beyond what he'd already done until the new year in order to attend to his mother's health. In a moment of weakness, he allowed them to stumble, but no longer.

"You're an utter loon, Malfoy," said Blaise at one of their chats—the event had become a weekly thing for them, along with Theo, who drank much and spoke little these days, content to stare darkly into his cup. "Leaning on your mother like a crutch? She's clearly gone soft in her old age, where is the wisdom in pretending that you still care for her? I've seen her, how she holes up in her room for hours at a time without speaking or eating. How much longer can she go on like this?"

In response, Draco scowled at him as the house elf poured the trio their drinks. "My mother is only forty-three, not some old hag breathing her last, you twat. She'll recover from all of this soon enough and in turn become twice as healthy for her effort. If it is anyone's mother we should worry about, it's yours. I have heard, not from you, mind, that she has set a date for her marriage to that Dagworth fellow. Next month, if I'm not mistaken, and she is nearly a full year older than my own mother. How much younger is this Dagworth? Will the years between them outlast the length of the marriage itself, do you suspect? That is, after all, her style."

It was very likely that Blaise would have struck him right then and there for what he said if Theo hadn't raised his head at that moment, a morose, almost corpse-like expression on his face as he looked from one friend to the other.

"I have been written to, from prison, concerning the nature of my position as heir. It would seem that my father finds it questionable that, though married, I would choose to name my daughter as successor. He says a son from Millicent will surely be born soon enough if I serve my duty properly and then I can set both wife and baseborn aside with great honour and go back to having nothing to do with either of them."

"The same as he did to you all those years ago?" asked Draco, raising his eyebrows at the downcast nature of his friend. He knew it was a rude thing to say, but unlike Blaise, Theo would never think to strike anyone for speaking the truth.

"Exactly the same! But I never wanted to marry Millicent Bulstrode in the first place nor do I want to touch her in such a way, not now nor ever. Why should I care if the Nott name dies out with me? Why should it when Father has a perfectly competent heir in Jeremiah, my nephew? I don't like Millicent—I hate her, I hate everything about her! I hate this bloody cruel world that took away the woman I loved and forced me to marry a cow instead! It should have been Millicent that died that night, not Daphne!"

He slumped back into his seat, burying his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he was racked with sobs, or something close enough to that. Draco and Blaise looked awkwardly at each other for several long seconds, unsure if they should console their usually so private friend or if they were better off condemning him for the blasphemous things he said.

Just then, Missy the house elf returned, clutching a letter in her long fingers, which shook as she offered it up to Draco. He snatched it from her hands, ripping the envelope open without bothered to glance at the seal. He quickly scanned through the content of the letter, a scowl growing larger and larger on his face with each new line that he was forced to read.

"What is it then, Malfoy? don't keep us waiting in suspense forever. What is it, a love letter from your little bride?" Blaise chuckled, seemingly already moved past Draco's insults from a few minutes prior. Or perhaps he was simply enjoying seeing his friend squirm with distaste for once, as Draco loved to see others do so often.

"No," he replied, wishing he could throw the whole bloody thing into the fireplace, but knowing that it would be rude and uncouth of him to do so. "It is a letter from the Lady Greengrass, inviting both myself and Mother to Astoria's debutante ball, which is to be held two days before Christmas. She says it will be quite the treat for us both as our first real outing in months."

"And are you going to attend?"  
"As her intended, I have no choice in the matter. I will have to attend as Astoria's escort whether I want to or not, of which I can assure you I most certainly do not. But I will have to say yes, regardless of my personal feelings. Missy," he snapped his fingers at the house elf, "go fetch fresh parchment and one of our nicer quills. I have important matters to which I must attend, as the heir to the Malfoy house and as the future husband of a soon to be a woman of proper society. This is a time that calls for nice quills, none of the cheap kind from school." Draco scowled, wishing he could simply run back to his quarters and never come back out.


	12. A Battle Field (of sorts)

"Oh, Mr Malfoy, how handsome you look in your new dress robes," cooed Clara Twilfitt, taking the last pins out of his robes with a large smile on her face that revealed the gap between her teeth. "My son, Henry, the foolish lad, shows a disturbing lack of interest in fashion of any sort—claims that the family business is not for him. Bah!" She waved her hands in distaste. "But I have other sons, so he is only a little disappointing. You must be such a pride to your mother, though. What a fashionable young man you are."

Draco turned over his shoulder to look at his mother, who scowled before cutting Twilfitt off, coldly replying, "Clara, you tell this story every time we come in and it never changes. Ever discharge Henry or kindly stop groaning about it every time you open your mouth. My son and I are very busy people, as you know, and we cannot be bothered by the petty issues of someone of your ilk. Now, if you will please direct us to the register so that I may pay and continue on with my day. I have many other things to do other than stand here."

Twilfitt opened her mouth, clearly greatly offended, but the jingling of Mother's purse appeared to remind the woman that they were high paying customers and her mouth shut once more, jaw clicking loudly. Instead, she silently waved her hand at the register, beckoning them to follow. The pins, which had floated in the air around her head, dropped to the floor before finding their way to their proper container, leaving the shop as spotless as it usually was.

"My son will be attending a debutante ball later this month as the escort to his lovely betrothed. This will hopefully be the very last that he must go to as a future husband. We may come back to you for future events, if you learn when to properly speak to your betters, Clara. I find your robes favourable to those of Malkin but at least she knows not to speak unless spoken to." Mother continued to ignore the scowl on Twilfitt's face as she handed over the proper coinage. "Now come, Draco, we have a great many things that still need attending to."

They swept out of the store, the robes Banished back to Wiltshire with a simple wave of Mother's wand—because she was the only one of them who still had a wand. The duo continued down the street, she cold and entirely indifferent and he trying his best to keep the scowl off his face. These trips to Diagon Alley bothered him more than he was willing to admit, even if they were a sign of Mother's recovery. He didn't see why it was necessary for him to come along.

"Why must we do this, Mother?" he asked, only just successfully keeping the whinging tone from his voice. "You know that it would be just as easy to have Twilfitt or even someone better than her come to our home and set robes for me in the privacy of our own house. There was no need for any of this nonsensical idea to show our faces in public. We could have stayed home, safe from the dark looks of those around us."

She shot him her own equally dark and dirty look as they'd received all day, but tightened her cloak around her neck when she noticed that others in the crowd were still staring at them with hate-filled gazes that followed the Malfoys' every move. "You are a man, Draco, even if you do not seem content to act like one. Do not concern yourself with the petty natures of those who, even now, are too beneath you to show any sort of concern."

They continued further down the street, Mother with her head held high, Draco following after, sulking the whole way even if he wouldn't admit to it. He hoped that, if he simply went along with all of her demands, Mother would move quickly so that they could return to the manor and he could retreat from the sneers of those who passed them. But the Malfoy matriarch was content to slowly make her way through Diagon Alley, haggling over the prices of even the smallest of objects, waving Draco off when he tried to remind her that they didn't have all day.

It was while they were at the apothecary that he spotted his cousin Guinevere, her toddling daughter clinging to the skirts of her dress robes while a nanny pushed the younger set in a pram. She, too, noticed Draco and, nodding towards the shop owner, made her way over to her younger cousin, a cold smirk on her face.

"Hello, dear cousin," she said in a falsely bright voice, leaning down to scoop one of the toddlers into her arms while the other chose to hang off the side of the pram and look up shyly at Draco. "I didn't think you were making public appearances any longer. All the rumours say that you and Aunt Cissy haven't attended more than a half dozen social events between the two of you since the war. What is it that possibly could have coaxed you out of your cave?"

He scowled and looked to the floor, his desire to Apparate home only strengthening even further. If only he still had his wand! "My betrothed is set to be presented in less than two weeks' time. Mother has made the decision that none of our outfits are good enough so we were selecting new attire. To take advantage of such a trip, we are also picking up a number of other items that we need to fill up our storage after so many months of letting them dwindle."

"Ah." Her eyes narrowed and glittered with curiosity, so much like her father that Draco's stomach began to twist itself into knots out of rage. "I heard about the little dove's big day from Mother. You must be terribly excited about the whole thing. It will be the first truly public event that the two of you attend together, won't it? I would hardly think that your appearance at the train station would have counted for much and you didn't even go through with that."

"How did you know I didn't go out? I didn't see anything about me in the papers, how would you ever possibly know about that?"

"I have three younger siblings of schooling age and two parents who could not care less about any of them even though one of those boys is their new precious heir. I spotted the little dove being led onto the train by her father rather than you and was tempted to go over and say hello before remembering that the Greengrasses have never much cared for me and I'm not overly fond of your bride. Not to mention that I had three prats to get on the train and four little brats of my own waiting for me at home, so there was little time to bother with the likes of Granville Greengrass."

"Thank you. I appreciate your kind and ever wise words, as well as the mocking nickname with which you use to address my future bride. Truly you are a goddess, a woman to stand upon the shoulders of all those who have come before you."

"Mummy, who is this man?" asked one of the girls from the older set of twins. "I want to go home and have the candy that you promised us. Can we have the candy now, Mummy?" Her twin joined in as well, jumping down from the side of the pram to plead with their mother.

Guinevere rolled her eyes and hushed the girls. "Take my advice, dear cousin, to feel gratitude that children will still be several years away from now if you ever have them at all. Nineteen years old when I had the first two—or rather, a few months short of that date. Aria and Astraea, my daughters, since you and your family never bothered to ask or congratulate me. And two years later, another set of twins in the form of Nereus and Nashelly, with no congratulation once again." She pointed a the infants in the pram, scowling at Draco. "But you are lucky to be secure in the knowledge that you twenty-first year will wrap up free of four children under three years of age and without a spouse who is rarely there to help attend to them. And how were they both sets of twins when there are no twins in either of our family lines, anyway? It makes no sense at all! But what do you care about my ramblings when your bride is still little more than a child and your marriage is unlikely to ever be one of success?"

Brow furrowed, Draco blinked at his cousin in confusion. "What in the name of Salazar do you mean by that, Guinevere? What could possibly go wrong with my marriage? The Greengrasses have no reason to call things off, not after all that we have offered in exchange for Astoria's hand in marriage. My marriage is safe."

"Do you really not know?" asked Guinevere, not bothering to hold back the shock. "I would have thought that something of this nature would have come up during your betrothal contract. Surely Father or Mr Greengrass has told you why the family never sought marriage for their precious little bird, despite being sixteen years old?"

"No, I was only ever told that they hesitated due to their tendency to lose children at young ages as well as Mr Greengrass' desire to see Astoria complete school before she gets married. Not to mention that we both left the room before negotiations were completed in their entirety. So whatever secrets you know about my bride are still a secret to me."

She shook her head at him. "Then you are a fool, Draco Malfoy, and one of the biggest I've ever met. Astoria Greengrass has nearly joined her siblings in death more than a dozen times in her young life due a to a grave illness she's had since birth. Two siblings both died of complications relating to this same illness and though no one is certain how she has survived this long, there is also no cure nor certainty to how much longer she has for this world. Astoria may die at any moment with utterly no notice."

How could he respond to that? What was there for him to say after learning that his newest wife to be was like an explosive spell waiting to happen if only the right words were spoken? She might not even make it to their wedding, let alone last long enough for an heir to be born to him. How could he do anything but stand there in silent horror, knowing he was being punished far beyond the sins that he committed over the last two years?

"Have you no response?" Guinevere asked, chuckling coldly at his shock. "Even worse yet is that many of her ancestors who carried this same illness found themselves barren or sterile, unable to conceive, or at least unable to carry to term. How likely do you think it is that she is one of those lucky few whose womb has been spared enough to carry a son for precious Draco Malfoy? Personally, I think you paid far too high a price for your bride, cousin."

Still he remained speechless, so thrown by this revelation that he could find absolutely no way of responding that could be perceived as anything other than wholly unintelligible nonsense. No wonder, then, that his uncle wanted to see the two married, as it would leave him childless and twelve hundred galleons poorer in a time when his fortune had already dwindled so drastically. Even if they did wait the full eight years, Draco would be nearly thirty, making it that much harder and unlikely that he could ever find a suitable bride, not to mention that, socially, he would be destroyed even further than he already was at that moment in time. People would assume he was infertile or didn't enjoy the touch of a woman. This whole marriage was merely one step closer to ensuring his uncle's success.

Just then, Mother returned from where she had been speaking with the apothecary owner. She looked between her niece and her son, taking in the expression of triumph versus horror and noticed how both seemed very close to either lunging at each other in a desperate attack or flee in opposite directions from one another.

"What in the name of Salazar is going on here?" she asked of them, bewildered. "I've been gone for only a little while yet I return to some sort of battle field. Draco, what is it that has caused such great distress between you and your cousin? Why do you seem so bothered by something I have not witnessed? Please, explain."

It was immediately obvious to both cousins that they were wisest and best off to say absolutely nothing concerning their discussion, for Narcissa Malfoy, despite appearances, was still frail and fragile compared to what she had once been. To tell her of the disastrous nature to which Draco had tied himself would only further complicate the situation and severely damage her health. Even Guinevere had too much respect for her aunt to do such a thing.

"We were merely discussing the future that Draco will have one day and I suppose we got a little too carried away in comparing his life to mine. You know how Draco and I are, always so very competitive the both of us have always been. But unfortunately, I must bid you good day, Aunt Narcissa, for my husband is no doubt waiting impatiently for the return of his little angels and so I must depart."

She nodded to them both before heading off with her children and the nanny, leaving Draco to glance nervously at his mother out of the corner of his eyes, worried that she would not buy the lie. With all people but his mother could he remain confident.

"Very well then, Draco," said Mother, showing no signs that she'd caught on to the true topic of their discussion. "We have much to do in order to have you fully prepared for young Greengrass' special day and not much time left to do it all. Follow me."

He would speak of his problems later when they were in private and the time was more appropriate. With any luck, it was not too late to call off their engagement altogether and find a new bride, a proper bride, one who would not leave him without an heir.


	13. Astoria's Debut

"How do you feel about all of this?" asked Roselle, whispering into her cousin's ear. "Draco will be here any moment and you will be presented to all of the highest of Pureblood society. Do you remember my own ball during the summer, how lovely it all was, the handsome men we danced with?" She laughed heartily and shook her head. "Well, you did very little dancing at all, isn't that right? But still, what great fun."

Astoria merely shrugged and did her best to look indifferent about the whole matter. "I never did much care for balls of any kind but I must say that debutante balls are the worst of them all, with so much unnecessary attention on you the whole time I will absolutely hate every last moment of the damn thing, of that I have no doubt."

"Damn pessimist," her cousin replied good-naturedly, shoving Astoria lightly so that the younger girl only stumbled back a step. "Will you ever find anything to be happy about or did you make it your mission to only see the negative in everything around you? No wonder Uncle Granville never found anyone to marry you off to until now. Poor Malfoy, I bet you'll critique how he has sex or brushes his teeth."

Grimacing, Astoria looked away from the other girl; the illness that had spread through generations of their family largely left the younger siblings of her father alone, as well as their children. Roselle was unaware that Draco Malfoy would be receiving more than just an argumentative wife in a few years' time.

It would become necessary to tell him at some point, she knew that it wasn't fair to pretend otherwise and if she was lucky, Malfoy might even take this as a sign that he would be better off looking for someone else to be his betrothed. There was no option but to tell him the truth—eventually. The night that she was being officially presented to Pureblood society was not the most appropriate time and Mother was likely to punish Astoria if anything went wrong. They would have to see each other again soon enough and she could tell him the whole story at that point.

"Oh, he's here!" Roselle cried, clapping her hands excitedly before grabbing her cousin's wrists and leaning forward so that they could both peek over the balcony, where Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had just arrived. "Merlin, isn't he just the most attractive man you've ever seen? I wish he could be my betrothed instead of that Burke boy." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "All he ever wants to talk about is the various dark artefacts in his uncle's shop as though I care."

Barely looking down at her intended, Astoria curtly replied, "I'd trade with you in a heartbeat if I could if only to get away from that pompous prat. He may be conventionally attractive but I would rather listen to someone talk about a Hand of Glory for an hour than hear Malfoy prattle on about how much money his family has. At least it shows that Burke has some kind of hobby. It makes him out to be the far more interesting companion compared to a husband whose only true interest appears to be himself and his own self-promotion."

Draco Malfoy suddenly looked up, appearing to spot the two girls if his ever deepening smirk was anything to go by. As her escort for the night, his robes matched hers; they were a green the colour of a dark forest with fine silver trimmings that gave him a regal appearance. Despite this—and her cousin's longing sigh—Astoria could dredge up no feelings of affection or closeness for the man that she was set to marry. He meant nothing to her.

After the Malfoys had been properly greeted by her parents and disappeared into the crowd, Roselle also made her apologies to Astoria and complimented her robes before slipping down the staircase to join her family. More guests arrived over the next few minutes and soon enough the manor was full of people Astoria either didn't know or didn't care about in the slightest. She heard her father's voice carry from the main floor and then a weak cheer went up, signalling that the moment for her official coming out was only a few minutes away.

Her eldest male cousin, Charles, was taking on the role that should belong to her brother if any of them were alive or, in the case of six month old Octavius, were old enough to escort her down the stairs to be handed off to her betrothed. Astoria, at one time, had a brother who was also named Charles, less than a year younger than the cousin who shared his name, who would be twenty-one if he hadn't fallen victim to the illness that so commonly ran through her family. Therefore the cousin would have to do well enough, though she was at least lucky that he had experience as his sister's escort some eight years previously.

"Are you ready, cousin?" asked Charles as he leapt up the last few steps, a cocky smile on his face. Arm outstretched in an offer that she never wanted to take, Charles continued speaking. "It is very unusual when they picked me to guide you when I am already a married man, though I suppose that it is true that yours' has never been a conventional life."

Before she could respond, Charles took her by the crook of her arm as, somewhere downstairs, a slow song began to play to announce her entrance. The gaze of all in the manor turned to her, watching as she descended towards then towards Draco, who waited for her in much the same way that he would wait on their wedding day. There was no smile, no gleam in his eyes. He was just as unhappy to see her as she was to see him.

"Presenting for the first time Astoria Sohpelia Greengrass, engaged to Draco Cygnus Malfoy, with whom she shall complete the traditional first dance as a couple. Please join me in welcoming the young Lady Greengrass!"

The room applauded as Astoria was handed over to her grim-faced betrothed. Without affection, he kissed her on the cheek before leading her through the crowd of attendees to where room to dance was set. He held up his arms as the band began a slow waltzing tune and then, without warning, Draco took the first step of what was supposed to be the second most romantic dance in her life, only behind the day they were married.

Unfortunately for Astoria, she felt absolutely nothing at all, not even the urge of platonic friendship let alone anything even remotely close to being amorous towards him.

"You aren't particularly well rehearsed in these dances, I can tell. Did you mother not have a governess of some sort who could teach you properly?" His words were brimming with a sneer that he didn't dare show in such a public place. "I would think you would have learnt by now—after all your sister was always quite the talented dancer as I remember it."

In a voice just as low and full of contempt, Astoria replied, "That is because Daphne was the one who ever bothered to stay for such impractical lessons while I sought after better, more thoughtful things with which to fill my brain."

"And what exactly were these clever things that you sought over the far more appropriate teachings of a woman of your social standing?"

"Painting and potions, ancient curses, the history of old wizarding families, the piano at my mother's plea that I take up something at least moderately feminine in nature; I have a fair grasp on most of the practices needed to cure a variety of ailments and afflictions. I also quite enjoy the breeding of kneazles and own four at this current time, all registered with the Ministry, of course. I would never want to do something illegal."

"What a particularly unladylike list of talents and accomplishments! Your parents must be very proud to know they've raised a daughter who is so terribly unsuited for marriage. Though I suppose you no doubt stand by your accomplishments and likely consider each one as a badge of honour that separates you from all those more common Pureblood girls."

She could not tell frpm the expression on his face—or rather, lack thereof—if he was truly even a little impressed or if he was, like so many others, mocking her for refusing to conform by any means possible.

"Would you not prefer a wife with more than a basic education and understanding of the world around her, then?" asked Astoria scathingly. "Oh, but I shouldn't forget that the last woman who was meant to marry you was little more than a fool and an airhead who can barely tell which end of her wand is the right one let alone describe how our government operates or worse yet how to concoct a simple contraceptive spell because she prefers the idea of a marriage where every birth is immediately followed by pregnancy yet again."

Scowling back at her, Draco sent Astoria into a spin, making her gasp in surprise, shocked that she somehow did not run into one of the many other couples dancing around them, all seeming to be having a much better time than herself, most likely because they were not paired off with such a pompous prat.

"That wasn't a move befitting of a gentleman of the calibre that you claim to be, sir. You oughtn't to treat a lady, especially one set to be your wife, so viciously or brusquely or else it may cause one great harm. After all, I am rather the fragile young thing as a dewdrop upon a flower, easily washed away with even the slightest of motions that might be considered too harsh."

"Though you may not think very kindly of Pansy, it doesn't mean that you have any right to insult her to my face. In many ways, I still care for her as one might a sister or a close friend from childhood, though I suspect that she does not look upon me with the same sort of gentle kindness and consideration any longer. According to her friends, Pansy hates me more now than she ever did your sister."

He spun her again but when Astoria's sense came back to her, she replied, "My sister and Parkinson were best friends once upon a time if you can believe it, with a closer bond than she ever shared with her own flesh and blood. And it is Parkinson's fault that my sister was always so unhappy during her time at school, so please forgive me if I perhaps find it difficult to think of her with any sort of favour."

He muttered something under his breath and scowled more deeply than she ever imagined possible. Looking away from her, Astoria could see there was a deep anger inside of him.

"Is there something that I've done to offend you, sir? I would apologise at once if I only knew what it was that I'm meant to be apologising about. Though I've no doubt that there are a thousand and one ways in which you can be angered but as I don't know you as well as compared to your dear Miss Parkinson, I cannot be certain of the particular incident which currently offends you."

"At least Pansy could have given me the children I need instead of lying to my face and robbing my family of a not small sum of money. We may not know each other very well yet, _wife_ ," he sneered at her, "but I already know that you are little more than a lying little bitch who, along with your cowardly father, thought to fool me and entrap me. You will make a most improper bride, Lady Greengrass. _That_ is why I am angry."

She reeled back from him but Draco caught her by the wrist, preventing Astoria's escape. The look on his face was one of utter rage and she would not have put it past him at that moment to slap her in the face, never mind the room full of people.

"My apologies once more for still not understanding, Mr Malfoy, but what exactly is it that you are accusing me of?"

Draco grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in tightly so that her head rested just underneath his chin. He cupped her face, pulling it upwards and into a deep kiss, rendering her utterly speechless. Astoria had never been kissed by anyone before and she didn't know how to respond or if she even should respond. Her head began to pound from the confusion and excitement of it all.

Then, just as quickly, she was released from the kiss, but Draco, rather than letting her go so entirely, whispered into her ear, "I know all about your illness, dear wife, and what it may mean for our marriage."

He dropped her face, scowling darkly, and stalked away, leaving Astoria to gape after him in a mixture of utter horror and bewilderment. This changed absolutely everything if Draco truly did know about the secret her father had tried to hide for so long. This might be the thing to free her from marriage—he knew!

So why wasn't she happy?


	14. Some Greengrass Family History

He stalked away from his betrothed, doing his best to keep from bursting out in a fit of rage, keeping his face down so that the pinkness of his cheeks was not quite so apparent. Draco wanted very badly to smack someone or punch a hole in one of the walls of the Greengrass' manor.

How dare that little whore pretend to be so naive and innocent when she had been lying to him for the past four months, allowing herself to be passed off as a perfectly healthy young girl fit for marriage in just a few years time! Who knew if she even had a few years left in which to get married. Hell, for all he knew, his young bride might drop dead that very night as she laid down to rest. If he was so lucky then at least there would be the opportunity for him to contract himself to someone new. But, judging by her stubborn nature, Draco had no doubt she would stay obnoxiously alive up to their marriage and right through the eight years he would have to wait to be able to give her up for a better bride.

How dare she do this to him, playing at and pretending to be something she was not? Slytherins were supposed to be cunning and crafty, yes, but this was on a whole new level. His very livelihood was at stake now just because Greengrass and her father thought they could get away with pulling a fast one on him.

She'd seemed shocked when Draco told her that he knew the truth and that only made his blood pump that much faster out of anger. How far into their marriage had she been intending to wait before telling him the truth, if she planned to _ever_ actually do so? Merlin's beard, he really wanted to rip someone's throat out at that moment.

"And where, exactly, is it that you think you're going, Draco?" Violet Runcorn smirked at him, arms crossed over her chest when he turned around to glare in her direction. "I hope you weren't intending on meeting some other girl in one of the spare bedrooms. After all, you've got a little bride waiting just downstairs for you. Not that being betrothed has ever stopped you before, has it? Why should it now?"

He scowled at the brunette, not feeling up to dealign with Violet right then, not when his brain was far too overwhelmed with the knowledge that he had been betrayed. "Go home to your husband and leave me alone, Violet. I'm not in the mood for your games right now, not when I've got way more serious things to get to."

"He isn't my husband yet, Draco darling, it isn't cheating until you're married." She giggled childishly. "Oliver decided to wait until next month, right before he heads back to school, for us to get properly married so I've still got almost four weeks. But what really matters is that _you're_ mad about something." Violet ran her eyes up and down his body before smiling coyly, looking at him thoughtfully. "Oh, darling, don't tell me you only just found out that your seemingly perfect little bride isn't as wholesome and honest as she appears to be? Surely you knew about her _special condition_ before now? I know the parents have tried to keep the whole thing a secret but it's not as though you can do something like that for very long when little Greengrass gets sick enough to need hospitalisation on a semi-regular basis and even Daphne fell seriously ill more than once, having to go to St Mungo's for three weeks straight in our third year. Don't you remember any of that, or are you really so oblivious?"

Her word gave him reason to pause. Had he truly never noticed Daphne missing school because she was sick? Surely he shouldn't be expected to pay any attention to the behaviour of someone two years younger than himself, but Daphne had been in his year and house, sharing a table for meals and attending the same classes as him. He presumed Pansy said something about it in the past—as she greatly loved complaining about and teasing Daphne whenever possible—but Draco far too regularly tuned out what his formerly betrothed said that he could never say for certain if she'd ever told him about the Greengrass' illness.

"I never felt it of much benefit to pay attention to the unimportant second daughter of a family that is, by my standards, wholly insignificant. I wanted very little to do with the younger students, not when I was busy actually doing something with my life. I had to mature far more quickly than the rest of them, which meant I've always had very little in common with the likes of Astoria."

"But now that you're tied to her, you've got no choice but to discover everything you can before it's time to be married. After all, you don't want to be caught off guard again, do you?" She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling Draco into the shadows of the staircase, still with that smirk on her face. "If you really want to ensure that there won't be any more surprises then come upstairs with me. Ah, don't look at me like that, you know that wasn't what I meant. No, no, I only mean that we're _at_ the Greengrass' house right now—there must be all sorts of secrets and hidden dirt about them somewhere in the building."

If Draco were a more intelligent man, he would have rejected her offer and returned to the party. If he'd been thinking reasonably, he would recall that it was unseemly for two people who were not betrothed to one another to be snooping around the upper floors, away from everyone else. But his brain was far too consumed with anger towards Astoria and her father—he couldn't think straight. Draco didn't _want_ to think straight, not any more.

He just wanted revenge.

"Fine," he said coldly, moving past her and heading up several steps before looking behind him at the now broadly smirking Violet. "Since you seem to think you know so much, why don't you show me where to go?"

Violet sashayed up the stairs, a flirtatious look in her eyes before she turned to face forward. They moved to the first floor, where there was very little lighting at the moment, making the whole place take on an eerie vibe, like Mr Greengrass might jump out at any moment and demand to know what they were doing. Violet waved for him to follow her into what was clearly supposed to be Greengrass' office, which, surprisingly, only had the most basic of locking charms on it. Draco would have thought that someone like Granville Greengrass would be a bit more paranoid about someone uncovering his family's secrets. Or perhaps he was overly confident that no one from the party would come up here.

She moved over to the desk and, with a series of charms only slightly more complicated than _Alohomora_ , was rewarded with the clicking satisfaction of breaking the lock. Violet looked up at him proudly, smug almost, and pulled out several files along with a lengthy, rolled-up sheaf of parchment that tracked the Greengrass family back to the eighteenth century, chronicling the generations. Unfolding the tree, the smug look on her face broadened, smile getting wider with each new generation she looked over.

"Look, a little marker next to every single member of the family who appears to have died of the same illness your little wife has. Fourteen people across nine generations, starting with Cedellia Greengrass at age nineteen." Violet opened one of the files she'd tossed on the desk, the oldest looking one that was labelled _Cedellia_. "Hm, interesting. Apparently, at least according to the rumours, her father, Thaddeus, made enemies with a powerful dark wizard when he refused to marry Cedellia to him. As revenge, he cursed both she and the Greengrass descendants to suffer from a horrible illness, passed from parent to child with no clue when it might pop up again." She flipped through a few more pages. "Ah, it would seem that the fourteen listed on the tree are those who have died that were directly linked to Cedellia's only child, her son Anaeus. Another seventeen who were born to other families but had Greengrass blood have also passed away over the last two centuries. That's thirty-one total."

"So then, if we do have children, this could potentially pass on to them or their children?" Draco scowled, feeling the strong desire to punch someone rising in him once more. "They've fucked me over, haven't they? I'm well and truly screwed now. Of course my uncle loves this union he's created—he knows I won't want to risk having kids with her and he also knows Greengrass will never want to go back on tying his daughter to my family."

"It's unlikely that will happen, though. The disease seems to only pop up every few generations before falling quiet again. You'll probably be safe having children with her as long as she doesn't die before then." Violet turned away so that he wouldn't see the tears that sprung to her eyes. He didn't like to see weakness in his women, she knew that. "You'll be fine—it's your uncle who's the real moron here, considering his children are just as much from the Greengrass line as yours will be. They're still in danger."

Storming over to the desk, Draco grabbed one of the other files— _Enemies—_ and was shocked to see his own face on the very top, a picture of him cut straight from _The Daily Prophet_ following his trial. Underneath was a note, reading _Malfoy Jr, unstable but knows quite a bit, could be used to our advantage. Will consider the proposal of marriage. Just worried for Astoria's sake—hate the idea of using her as a spy again._

Marriages in the Pureblood world were often for political or economic purposes, he knew that. His parents married because the Blacks were rich and powerful and the Malfoys were one of the few families left who were truly pure. There would likely never be love between himself and any woman he ever married, but this...this was so much worse. There could be no trust, no sense that he would ever hold Astoria at anything closer than arm's length for the entirety of their marriage. How would he ever be able to tell that she wasn't spilling all of his secrets to her father, going behind his back to stay loyal to her own blood?

Just then, they both heard footsteps coming down the hallway and a man's voice—Mr Greenrass' voice. Violet and Draco looked at each other, panicked, knowing they couldn't just run out of the office without getting caught, considering it sounded like he was just outside the door.

"Come on," Draco hissed at her in a low voice, sending the files back to their proper place with a wave of his wand before heading towards the window. There was a large oak tree just outside and, throwing the window open, the two leapt outside, letting the window lock tightly behind them just as Mr Greengrass entered his office. Before he could notice the two young Purebloods in his tree, they scrambled down to the lower branches and dropped to the ground right outside where the party was still going on in full force.

"Oh, my dress is torn!" Violet batted at the rip in her skirts, repairing it quickly with her wand, doing such a fantastic job that Draco would need to squint just to see where the tear had been. She looked over at him, noticing that he was still red in the face, and from more than their hurried movements. "Are you still going to marry Greengrass after all I've shown you tonight? You deserve better than her."

"What, like you? Even though you're going to marry Rivers no matter how you feel and I'm going to marry Astoria no matter what I want to do? I can't get out of my marriage without admitting that I broke into Greengrass' office or at least went through some sort of unsavoury means of gathering the information I have. Neither of us has a choice and besides that, as I've told you before, you would never want to marry me if you could, not really. You know far too well what kind of person I am, especially to those I'm supposed to love."

He leant in and kissed her on the cheek, wishing they were living in a different world. But because they were living in this one, Draco pulled away sadly and, shaking his head, made his way back to the festivities, hoping that no one would connect his disappearance with Violet's. It was his duty to look like an upstanding and respectable member of society; after all, part of succeeding in life was doing whatever necessary to stay ahead of everyone else, including his own soon to be wife.

Draco didn't want to appear _unstable_.

It was time once more to pretend to be the dutifully betrothed, the loving and honourable member of society who was entirely unaware of the political machinations of those around him. He would kiss Astoria and allow her to think that he'd accepted the situation, to ease her and her bloody father into a false sense of security. But he would never forget any of this and he would _never_ forgive them, either. Malfoys did not fail and they did not falter—not to anyone and certainly not to someone like Granville Greengrass.

 _He would not be called unstable._


	15. Christmast Holidays

How could he possibly have forgotten that his young bride would be staying with him until it was time for her to go back to school? No wonder then that, the day after Christmas, she was being led into the manor along with her belongings, a bewildered expression on her face as she took in their intricately designed and decorated home.

"Miss Astoria Greengrass for Master Draco Malfoy," said Missy, bowing low to the floor as the last of Astoria's things settled on the carpet. "Mistress Malfoy has gone to visit Master Lucius and will return later today for a formal dinner with you both." She bowed again, less deeply this time, in the direction of Astoria. "I will take your things to your temporary lodgings while you get to know Master Draco. Mistress Malfoy has ordered me to make sure that you don't leave this room until she comes back."

The house elf, along with Astoria's belongings, disappeared with a loud crack followed by the shutting of the door to the sitting room, leaving the two Purebloods to stare awkwardly at each other, uncertain how to interact with one another given how their last conversation had ended. Just under three days was not enough time to heal the frustration and anger that cracked their already tumultuous relationship.

Astoria looked around the sitting room again before letting her gaze settle on Draco, a strange and unreadable look on her face. "I've been told you have a wonderful home here but I fear that Malfoy manor was grossly undersold on its beauty and grandeur. If you were to ever put this place on the market, there wouldn't be anyone alive who could afford more than a single washroom. Perhaps the smallest sitting room as well if they were willing to pour in their whole life's savings, but certainly nothing more than that. My father doesn't have enough for this place and you've seen our home. I always thought _we_ lived fairly cushy lives."

"I suppose you'll be dashing off a letter to him about how frivolously we live here as soon as you can." At her confused look, Draco merely waved her off, not wanting to start this little holiday of theirs off by fighting. Tharp argument could come to fruition later. "Never mind. You can pay your compliments to my mother later; she's the one who updated much of the place."

Astoria nodded mutely reaching behind her for the seat and dropped into it with a disappointed look on her face, like all the life had left her without any warning, leaving behind only exhaustion.

"The Aurors—and excuse me for saying this, but you are my betrothed and I felt it best that you knew—but the Aurors came to our home yesterday, right in the middle of unwrapping the presents for Christmas. They were quite rude about the whole situation, searching all of us, including Linelle and Octavius even though they're just little kids who haven't done a damn thing wrong. I can't believe the Ministry is allowed to do these kinds of things, invading my home when no one in our family ever did anything wrong. _We_ weren't Death Eaters during the war, nor did we support them in the slightest. That was Uncle Haffrey's son, Aunt Lavinia's son, Uncle Maxwell and Uncle Alarius who did all those terrible things, not my father, not my family."

It wasn't clear if her comment was meant to be a dig at Draco and his own father, so he let the statement slide for the time being. He had more pressing matters to concern himself with. "Did they say what the reason for the raid was? Or whether this was a one-time thing or not, if yours was the only family to be affected?"

"Oh, this is definitely not a one-off event, no." Astoria shook her head, sighing as she explained further. "They're going down the line, going through every Pureblood name in the book so they can sniff through everything you own to make sure that you don't have any dark artefacts or anything of that sort in your house. I have no doubt that you and your mother will be visited by Aurors very soon—in fact, I'm a tad surprised you haven't already considering how high profile your family is, but what do I know, right? I'm just afraid that...that there might be more arrests because of these raids, unfair arrests that have no basis to be put through beyond the ghost of evidence and prejudice against Purebloods."

It wouldn't be the first time that is family was attacked with little to no evidence to back up the actions of the Ministry. For Draco, growing up being taught to always look over his shoulder in case an Auror was nearby, the news that Purebloods were being interrogated and raided once more came as absolutely no surprise. The only truly shocking part was finding out that this wasn't also second nature for Astoria. He could not imagine living in a world where these raids came across as bizarre or even unusual for anyone.

She would learn soon enough that this was simply how life worked for those who made the mistake of supporting the Dark Lord. Their children would grow up with the knowledge of how to lie to an Auror anytime they saw one.

Of course, considering what he knew now about Astoria, it was a bit too presumptuous to assume that the two of them would ever be having children.

"So..." He cleared his throat, unsure what to say from that point. "Do your parents know yet that I'm aware of your little deceit or have your morals been so twisted that you believe it's fine to lie to me, your betrothed, and to hide secrets from your parents so that they don't know how awful you are? Oh, but I forgot that your father was a part of all of this as well."

Why was it so difficult to keep his emotions under control whenever it came to Astoria? He didn't even mean to be mad at her right then, so early into their holidays, but there was just something about talking to her, dealing with his betrothed, that made him forget how he was supposed to behave around her.

Astoria blinked at him rapidly, thrown off by his harsh tone. "I—I—I…" She stumbled over her own defence, shaking her head. "I don't have a choice in any of this, that isn't fair. He's my father and I'm supposed to be loyal to him until I become your wife. Of course I told him that you know about my illness because I can't just lie to him! If I had tried to keep this from him, then I would be in a terribly large amount of trouble when he eventually found out. If he asks me to answer a question, I have no choice to do anything but to respond to what I am asked and I must do so truthfully. You say your father controlled what you did right up to the end of the war? Well, my father still controls my every move, it's just for a wholly different reason."

What he wouldn't give at that moment to have Violet as his bride to be instead of this snivelling child who thought she was the biggest victim of all of them. That she could cry about having no control over her life when it was _her_ family that escaped the war unscathed—who the hell did this girl think she was, for Salazar's sake?

Instead of lashing out at her, though, he merely looked away at the grandfather clock, wondering how only fifteen minutes had passed since Astoria Greengrass chose to darken his doorstep. "I never spoke to your sister for more than a few minutes at a time when she was alive, but I know that Theo was obsessed with her. He talked about her all of the time, thought she practically hung the stars. How did you feel about your sister? Was she a good person? Did the two of you get along as children and as teenagers?"

Judging by her baffled expression, Astoria was entirely thrown off by his, admittedly, rather unexpected questions. "Er, well, Daphne was always ahead of me in so many things—going to Hogwarts, having crushes on boys, making the kind of mistakes that young women make. We didn't really like the same things or even subjects, though we did both have a love for Astronomy. I thought she was ditzy and absent-minded and she thought I was too bookish and outspoken. But we got along, for the most part, more than other sisters I'm sure. Why do you want to know?"

"My parents had three miscarriages and a stillborn before I was finally born and afterwards, my mother was told that she would never be able to have any more children, though that never stopped my dad. I grew up with no siblings from my mother, so I don't quite understand what it is to have one living with you. I think it is essential that our heir doesn't grow up alone. He'll need a sibling or even several so that the mistakes that I made won't fall on him as well."

"Oh." She narrowed her eyes at him, considering his explanation. "So does that mean you no longer think I'll die before I can give you any kids? I'm glad to see I've inspired such confidence in you that my body won't just shut down before you can knock me up."

"It's not that I have confidence in you so much as it is that I've become rather resigned to my fate, even though it frustrates me that I've been lied to. I've gone through our marriage contract and it's entirely airtight, unfortunately, even in regards to your medical condition. So rather than try to fight it, I've chosen to deal with it best as I can, which means making sure we both understand and are prepared for how our marriage will function. Thus, I am telling you that I will be expecting multiple children because I don't want my son growing up alone. He'll need friends and the best place to start is always within the home, learning how to be a leader and a friend from younger brothers as his first playmates."

"And how do you now they'll be boys—the first one or any one of our kids after? What if we only have girls, hm? What will you do then? Will your precious heir be a girl instead?"

"Don't make me laugh, Astoria. My family always has males, it's why the Malfoy name hasn't died out even after four hundred years. Our children will be male, or at least the majority of our children will be. Perhaps we will have a girl or two, but the others will all be male. The Malfoys do not have female heirs and we never will. Certainly, I will not be the one to break four hundred years of strict tradition."

"You have an aunt, don't you? Aquila Malfoy Black was the eldest of all her siblings, so she could have been the heir and carried on the Malfoy name all on her own. We could shake things up and change how people see the passing of the title from one generation to the next. If our first child is a daughter then, personally, I don't see why she couldn't be your heir. Being a girl shouldn't stop her from taking the reins."

He'd been betrothed to a mad woman! Naming a daughter as his heir when the option of having a son was still on the table? Even as a hypothetical situation, Draco couldn't possibly imagine ever doing something so utterly bizarre and unprecedented.

"Are you your father's heir?" he snapped at her. "You or your sister, when she was alive, were you ever in the running for being named the heir? And I don't mean when there was concern that no son would be born or that your brother would be a female. Did your father ever change the will to go to Daphne or to you?" At the uncomfortable expression on Astoria's face, he couldn't help but smirk at her, feeling that he'd won the argument. "If we have a girl, a daughter, she will not be my heir. I am not a progressive, Astoria, please don't mistake me for anything of the sort. And if you don't give me the son that I require, also understand that I will make your life a living hell. It is your job to give me a son, do you understand?"

She didn't respond for a long moment, holding her hands in front of her, fingers clasped tightly as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "I never did peg you as being a particularly progressive person," Astoria replied in a slow voice. "Trust me, that is one of the last things I would ever associate with your name, but you will be my husband and I will concede to what you demand of me, to a reasonable degree of course, for that is my duty."

"Master Malfoy?" Missy appeared before them with a sharp crack, almost immediately dropping into a low bow. "Mistress Narcissa is on her way up the path and I have prepared something to eat for the three of you to enjoy, if you and Miss Greengrass would like to make your way to the family dining room, please?"

Draco nodded at the house elf curtly and dismissively. "Thanks, Missy, we'll head right over." He turned to look at Astoria. "Okay? You can meet my mother, the most progressive person in my immediate family. If you like any of us, it'll most likely be her."

It felt a little too early into the relationship to be thrown at her future mother-in-law, but Astoria was quickly discovering since she arrived at Malfoy manor, there was not a lot in the world that was left to her to be able to make her own choices about how she wanted to live her life. Joining the Malfoy family meant having to give up every single thing that she believed to be true.

"Alright," Astoria replied in a quiet voice. "I can't wait to meet your mother. Please lead the way, Draco. I'm very excited to be having our first meal together as a couple and to get to know your mother and grow to love her as though she were my own mother."


	16. The Actions of a Loving Man

"Good afternoon Draco, Astoria. I just had a lovely meeting with Lucius—he's doing much better now though I fear he may become too accustomed to the life they force him to live at Azkaban." Narcissa nodded at her son and the woman who would one day marry him. "And I will say that I wish they'd discover some new way of getting visitors to the prison because I certainly have no love for those dirty, dingy boats I'm being forced to climb in and out of every single time I got to visit Lucius. The ride makes me feel sick and I fear at some point that it might just fall out of the boat altogether and drown. On top of that, I'm not even allowed to wear my nice robes or any jewellery for fear that the other prisoners may react negatively to my wealth and status. How preposterous is that really? Can you believe it?"

Draco kissed his mother on the cheek before circling the table to sit in the chair across from her, leaving Astoria to awkwardly curtsy and settle down to the left of Draco, having to pull her own seat out. The Malfoy matriarch looked at Astoria with a critical eye, taking in everything that she could garner from the girl just from observing her.

"Mother, did you hear about Mrs Rowle intending to re-marry—and apparently it's for true love this time? Blaise says that's what his mother claims, at least, that she's fallen head over heels for this Dagworth man. Personally, I don't believe it for a second and I think that someone should visit regularly after the wedding to make sure he's okay, but of course no one's really asked for my opinion on the matter and the wedding is set for March."

His mother shrugged gracefully, an action that only someone with her poise and charm could ever successfully pull off. "What Parthenope does with her life and this point is of no concern to me. She is wealthy and powerful enough now so perhaps she finally has chosen to marry for love but in the end, I care very little about what she does or her reasoning for doing so. We don't walk in the same social circle for a very good reason, after all, as you very well know."

Since she could think of very little to contribute to the conversation, Astoria merely looked down at her hands politely folded in her lap. The Malfoy's house elves brought in soup on the side of lamb chops and a glass of dark red wine. She smiled weakly at the elf, unsure if she could speak up and ask for an alternative to the lamb but decided that it wasn't worth it since she at least had the soup to eat instead.

Except that, she realised after the very first bite, there were bits of meat in the soup as well—beef, she thought it was based on the bloodied colour of the meat. Making a face, Astoria scooted the bowl away from her, making up her mind to just stay quiet and not eat anything at all.

Though her betrothed seemed to not notice at all as he kept talking, babbling about his friends and whatever mess they'd gotten themselves into but Mrs Malfoy turned her head to watch Astoria once more, a slight line forming across her brow as she noticed that the girl, beyond a single bite of food, was eating nothing at all, nor had she yet to take even a small sip of wine.

"Are you a vegetarian then, dear?" Narcissa asked her, cutting across the rantings of her son to lean across the table and stare at Astoria. "I promise that the food served here is very delicious but we also have some options available if you don't eat meat."

Head jerking upwards, Astoria shrunk back in her seat, unsure how to respond. "Er...well, if you have a salad or something of the sort, that would be lovely...and perhaps a water or Butterbeer? My father disagrees with the consumption of alcohol, especially considering the fact that I'm still underage at the moment. But, of course, I don't want to inconvenience you in any way."

Narcissa snapped her fingers at one of the house elves, directing them to return to the kitchen. "It is absolutely no convenience, Astoria, none at all. Don't you agree, Draco?" She turned to look at her son, who had begun to scowl at his betrothed. "I think it's very lovely that we have this opportunity to experience other ways of life and get even a small glimpse into how people who are not you and I—as privileged as we have been—experience the world."

"No," he replied curtly, "no, I don't agree with that at all. I'm not marrying into the Greengrass family, she is marrying into _ours!_ Astoria needs to understand that her father won't be in control of her for too much longer and that means she needs to get used to doing things the Malfoy way. My wife will listen to me, she will obey me, and she _will_ eat meat if I tell her to do so, got that? It is her duty to do so as my future wife."

He jumped to his feet at that moment, rushing over to where Astoria was sitting and grabbed the lamb off of her plate. Draco grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her mouth open despite her protests and forced the food into her mouth before pressing her mouth shut once more.

"Chew the bloody food or I'll leave a bruise," he snarled at her, keeping his fingers wrapped around her jaw. "Chew it and swallow it or I'll make the rest of your life a living hell, do you get what I'm saying? Eat the god-damned food, Astoria."

Her eyes fluttered in the direction of the Malfoy matriarch, looking—hoping, begging—for some sign that the older woman would do something, anything, to stop her son, but Narcissa's expression was blank and she merely turned back to her own plate of food, pretending to see nothing that was currently going on. It was clear she would say and do nothing at all to help Astoria, at least not when it came to acting against her beloved son. Astoria was all alone in this house of snakes and monsters, with not a single ally.

It was for that fact, that she was not going to be saved by any act of mercy, that Astoria swallowed the meat, gagging from the taste of it as tears rolled down her cheeks and she fell limply against the back of her chair.

"No wife of mine dines exclusively on the type of food that we give our animals, do you hear me, Astoria? Do you hear me?" He pushed on her shoulders so hard that it would no doubt leave a bruise the next day. "If I want to keep you alive long enough to give me sons then I have no choice but to do these sorts of things, to make sure that you eat the proper kind of food. Of course, I would never want to hurt you but you have left me absolutely no choice if you are going to be so foolish over such a trivial matter as your diet."

How was _she_ to blame for his arrogance? The very thought of it made her want to scream back at Draco and slap him, her hands only swayed by the knowledge that he could strike back far more fiercely than she could and that there would be no one willing to come to her defence.

"I won't eat any more of it," she told him, though her defiance was rather undermined by the crack in her voice. "I have principles that could not be broken for the likes of any man, not you and not my father. I do not eat meat—I will not be bullied into doing so ever again."

As a response, he grabbed her by the collar of her dress and threw her to the ground so that she and the chair in which she'd been sat both became upended, a leg only narrowly missing her head. She whimpered in fear, instinctively placing her hands over her face in wait for the next blow.

It never came; instead, Astoria was lifted once more by her collar so that her intended could whisper into her ear, "I did not want you in the first place, Miss Greengrass, and I surely do not want you now. It is only by the machinations of your father and our shared uncle that I ever agreed to this union, though it is already showing signs of failure. But you will marry me and be my wife, which means you will do all that I demand of you. If that includes that you shall eat meat then you shall do so willingly without tears or any such nonsense at this feminine emotion you show now."

Finding breathing properly to be a challenge, Astoria glared up at him, spitting in his face. "I hope I die before we can be married! I hope my illness consumes me before the day we are to be wed, for I would sooner die than be your wife."

At that, there was a quiet gasp from Narcissa, who set down her cutlery to give her son a sharp look and a short shake of her head. "Illness?" she demanded of him. "She has the illness? You knew this and yet let your uncle tie you to this girl?" She got to her feet, the simple gaze shifting into a glare. "Draco, though you are my son, you are an utter fool and have proven yourself to still be the same child as you were last year, making mistakes rather than waiting for the consultations of those older and wiser than yourself. But now you have doomed yourself to this marriage since we all know that the Greengrasses are snakes who seek only to climb the ladder of self-betterment rather than concern themselves with those who they will hurt in the process. It is no wonder that Haffrey married a Greengrass, as he is more like them than he ever was a Malfoy."

Taking that moment to scoot away from Draco, Astoria gripped the seat of the chair behind her, rising on trembling legs. She had heard terrible things said about her family in the past, far worse than what Narcissa Malfoy said, but it hurt far worse to know that her future in-laws felt such a way about not only her own kin but also those who married her kind. What sort of family was she joining that disparaged their own flesh and blood?

"I didn't know at the time that the contract was being created, Mother, only after when it was told to me by Guinevere, my cousin. If I had known at the time, I would have put Astoria aside immediately for someone healthy, someone not in danger of dying so soon. But now..."

"Now we are too late to do a damned thing about it!" Narcissa threw her hands into the air. "You've damned your own family, you little..." She did not say it, could not say it, though both mother and child knew what she meant by her harsh words. "Should I write to your father and tell him of your mistakes in the hopes that the shock of it will not kill him? What are we to do now, Draco? Tell me! What are we to do?"

Looking up at her betrothed was like looking into the face of a chastised child who'd been caught doing something for which they weren't even aware there was a punishment.

Astoria felt a sob crawling up her throat but she quickly stifled it, not wanting to cry any more than she already had in front of these people. They didn't deserve her tears, didn't deserve to see the outcome of the what their evil intentions had done to her.

All of her life she was told that this illness was a curse, that she would have to lie about it in order to get any man to fall in love with her or even to grant her the gift of marriage. She was only ever told to do her best to hide the signs of her disease, the blackness that crawled up her arms, the trembling of her hands, the fact that she drank several potions a day in the hopes of remaining healthy while in this world of so much death. And here it was, the proof that she could never be happy nor wanted, not with her condition.

It was obvious they all thought her better off dead in the same way as her brother William or sister Serenia, eaten away by their disease. Or perhaps she should be consumed by Dragon Pox as Charles was—or better yet to have never breathed at all, to die as she was born like Reinauld. The method was not the part that they cared about but rather the fact that she ought to have met her death like five of her siblings before a mistake such as herself could be wed to anyone, especially someone so prominent as Draco Malfoy.

She was soon to be stuck with a pack of wild dogs that wished to see her dead and would, no doubt, do all that was in their power to make sure that such a thing would one day happen. Marriage to Draco Malfoy would be her death sentence, no doubt.

The question at hand was if she would accept her fate.


	17. Uncovering His Darkness

The new year came upon them almost without warning. It was as though they woke up suddenly to find that it was a whole near year, 1999, and with it a seemingly whole new set of expectations on how they ought to be and even live. But these demands had been sent to them before and, as always, they were largely ignored in favour of doing things as they always had been. There was no changing the society into which they'd been born.

Astoria woke up crying, still caught in the bad dreams she'd been having since arriving at Malfoy manor. Ever since the incident during dinner, both Narcissa and Draco were doing their best to avoid her, allowing her to wander the grounds and take meals by herself. Neither willingly sought her out nor even were willing to spend long periods of time in her presence when she stumbled across them randomly somewhere in the house while wandering around.

The house elves—whom she learned were named Missy, Bobbily, and Yatz—brought her books and food and anything else she could possibly think of to ask for. It was to them that she talked, except for the occasional letter sent to her beloved cousins Roselle and Jasmine. Other than that, she wrote down all her thoughts and feelings in a dark brown journal; to this alone, she confessed everything about how she felt about the Malfoys, about marriage, about the fact that she'd talked more to the house elves than another human being since Boxing Day. Her journal held no grudges and made no judgements—most importantly, it would not grab her and toss her around just for wanting to live a little differently from what was expected of her.

When she glanced outside, it was to find that snow was still falling, as it had done all week, leaving the grounds covered in the white fluff, making it that much more difficult to accurately navigate her way around the grounds since everything now looked entirely difficult. When she woke that morning, Astoria initially groaned and pulled the covers back over her head but after half an hour of doing nothing, she conceded to her boredom and dug her warmest clothes out of her trunk. Weather be damned, she couldn't stand the idea of staying inside all day yet again.

Stumbling out the first door she could find that led to the grounds of Malfoy manor, Astoria trudged forward slowly, leaving deep yet small footprints in the snow until she stumbled into something hard and cold. Brushing it clean, she discovered that she'd accidentally run into a headstone. The name— _Cassiopeia—gave_ her reason to pause and her gaze drifted towards the dates of both birth and death. _1977 to 1977._ This was the headstone of an infant, probably a stillborn, and judging by the date, the child would have been Draco's older sister.

Brushing off other headstones uncovered three more markers with similar dates of death as well as more names— _Lyra, Orion,_ and _Druella._ It would seem that Astoria had unintentionally uncovered the stillborn children of Narcissa Malfoy.

It hadn't occurred to her that her family was not the only one who suffered in this way, losing child after child before their time. It was so easy to look at the consequences of war and criticise those who'd fought for bring their despair on themselves, but knowing that the Malfoys had lost children, even if they were infants—especially if they were infants—and even when their deaths were all twenty years removed? This was something entirely different from losing an adult son because he was so eager to take up arms and fight for a foolish cause.

"You found them, then? Took you long enough, you've been here for a week now." Draco, arms folded and head tilted, smirked at her as her head jerked up in shock. "My parents were unsuccessful four times in a row before they had me and then Mother couldn't have children after I was born. So, yeah, I'm coming into this relationship with concerns about being able to have children myself. _That_ is why I've decided to give you a chance instead of doing what I can to get rid of you. But part of that acceptance requires an expectation that you will, out of gratitude, show me the respect I deserve as your husband."

Her hands trembled violently and Astoria had to grip the headstone of Lyra Malfoy to stay upright. Stories of abusive husbands were frequent amongst the Pureblood society to the point where it had become somewhat of a joke, a part of life that was considered almost eerily normal. Having a husband who was loving and respectful was seen as a rarity, a shock, something that girls dreamt of but knew they'd likely never have.

Raised knowing that she could die without warning, Astoria never thought she would even need to consider the kindness of her husband if she were to have a husband at all. Now, though, things were different; Draco was not even waiting until they were officially married to begin asserting his dominance over her, both physically and psychologically.

It was practically unimaginable what he could do to her once they were already married if he was already willing to assault her and push her around. Astoria didn't even want to think about how much worse her life could come to be in just a few years' time.

"If I were to...listen to you and do as you tell me, would you be a good husband to me in turn?" Her eyes narrowed as she considered how willing she was to play along with his demands and expectations. "I've heard that abusive marriages lead to a greater chance of the pregnancy miscarrying because the woman is too stressed to carry the baby to term. Wouldn't that be terrible? But I'm sure you won't do anything to cause distress."

"You're full of shite." He scowled at her, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Astoria a murderous look. "Manipulative little bitch," Draco muttered and shook his head. "I've already told you my standard on what will lead to a happy and healthy marriage. If you don't play along...well, what the fuck, if Theo Nott really is able to name a bastard as his heir then maybe I will be able to do the exact same thing. Violet Runcorn would love to give me a child—she's wanted to for years, the same as Pansy. You aren't my only choice to acquire the child I need."

His words made Astoria's stomach hurt and she wanted to fling herself at him, beating her fists against his chest, or else drop to the ground and sob. "Then why are you agreeing to marry me?" Astoria yelled at him, surprised by the fierce anger in her voice. She hadn't realised how mad she was before she opened her mouth. "Why not just put me aside and run around fucking any girl that so much as looks your way? You clearly want nothing to do with me so why even bother pretending otherwise? I don't understand why you'd go to any length to keep up the pretences that this will be a real marriage when you clearly don't want to be part of it."

"As though you don't suffer the expectations of our community. I am the heir to the Malfoy family—ours is wealthier than almost anyone else and with the power to impact the whole wizarding world. If I did not take a wife or if I gave off the impression of putting forth no effort to impregnate my wife then people will assume that I am weak and want to stop my family from continuing." Draco made a noise in the back of his throat that bordered on a scoff. "Surely you could understand the desire to avoid such a fate considering the effort to which your family went to keep the line going? If I must find my heirs elsewhere, then I shall."

"But my father would never take a mistress just to satisfy such a stupid need. He kept trying with my mother, he stayed loyal to her no matter what. He would never even consider doing something so heinous like that, hurting her in that way. My father _loves_ my mother too much."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her, his smirk growing slightly. "Is that what you think, then? Is that what your father has led you to believe?" His chuckle was almost menacing. "If you honestly think that your father is an innocent man then you're even more naive and gullible than I would have ever thought. _Every_ man cheats—it's simply in our nature. My father cheated on my mother as yours did, too, and as generations of men have done over the years. No one is perfect, so to think your father is any different is just lying to yourself, the same as thinking that I will ever be any different. It's entirely preposterous and you would do well to rid your mind of such foolishness."

Disgusted, Astoria stomped away from both him and the headstones, wondering who in the wide universe she'd managed to piss off to deserve the terrible fate of being bonded to Draco Malfoy. She'd always strove to be a good person, so why was it that everything was crashing all around her? How dare he throw such blatantly false accusations at her father? Who the hell did Draco think he was, saying these sorts of things to her face?

Once back in her room, Astoria dropped onto the bed, wondering how it was that there was still another week until the holidays ended. Hogwarts had never been her favourite place to be and going back after the war ended did very little to help that feeling. Never before had she wanted to return to school more than she did right then. Just a week with Draco was enough to turn her off of the idea of him forever. How were they expected to live to make a marriage survive their entire lives if she couldn't stand to be around him for any length of time? How could a relationship such as theirs ever be considered even remotely healthy?

She didn't love him, couldn't possibly ever love a man as cold and ruthless as he was. Draco didn't care at all abut her happiness or feelings; he just wanted to show that he had power over her, that he had control over her, most likely as a way to make up for both the real and perceived loss of power following the war, though finding a reasonable explanation for his behaviour in no way justified it. She still hated him for what he had done.

How was it that they were expected to live in the same house, sleep in the same bed at least long enough to produce an heir when it was so obvious that neither of them could stand the sight of the other nor the thought of being trapped in this relationship?

Part of the reason she was so baffled by his behaviour was certainly based on how healthy her own parents' marriage always seemed, as well as the fact that, from a distance at least, the Malfoys all appeared to love each other. Yet Draco was uncaring and cruel to her, holding Astoria at arm's length at all times, serving as a complete contrast to his parents, who gave off the appearance of being very affectionate and loving to each other.

Then her thoughts drifted to the memory of Narcissa, who so calmly and coolly continued to eat her food as Draco assaulted Astoria. The Malfoy matriarch had neither said nor done anything to stop him and offered absolutely no words of comfort to Astoria afterwards, acting as though it had never happened. Indeed, she, horrifyingly, acted as though the sort of behaviour that Draco exhibited was perfectly normal and totally acceptable, the kind of thing that happened all the time.

The message behind her silence was clear enough; Astoria was not a member of the family, not yet at least, and therefore would not receive any of the benefits that came with the name. A benefit that included being treated with basic human dignity! To the Malfoys, she was not yet deserving of even this, holding her hostage for their own benefit, never mind that her captivity led to a sense of resentment and isolation that no diamond ring could ever fix, no matter how big it was.

And that was another slight though it was of less note, that, despite their betrothal and her debutante ball, she still hadn't received a single piece of jewellery, anything at all to show that she was a taken woman. The betrothal ring that was supposed to be hers was still locked away somewhere in the Malfoy vaults, hidden in the deepest, darkest part where it would most likely never see the light of day, let alone sit in its rightful place on her finger. Otherwise, Pansy Parkinson had refused to give it back and ran off with the priceless artefact.

The Malfoys had absolutely no respect for her, it was obvious since they weren't even willing to part with their bloody ring despite the tradition and centuries of expectation that was behind the whole idea of a betrothal ring in the first place.

More than anything else, Astoria wished she could be anywhere but here at Malfoy manor, where there was no one to talk to. She wished she could have a betrothed that loved and cared for her, or at an absolute minimum, at least respected her enough to treat her in a way that she deserved, as a higher class Pureblood daughter. And, most simply, Astoria wished that she could be happy again, a normal girl with a normal life and no betrothed who treated her so terribly or an uncaring future mother-in-law to worry about.

But when had Astoria ever had a wish of hers fulfilled in the past? Her story was not destined to end happily ever after. What was the point in hoping for otherwise?


	18. His Favourite Cousin

He didn't bother waving as the train pulled out of the station, carrying Astoria far away from him. She was very determinedly staring off into the distance, looking at anything _but_ him, as strong in her departure as she'd been the whole time she was visiting. So, knowing that she wasn't going to suddenly look in his direction, Draco kept his hands shoved firmly into his robe's pockets, unwilling to show emotion or weakness for someone who didn't care about him or anything that he did.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Potter and Weasley, who had no doubt just kissed their girlfriends good-bye and promised to write once a week as well as do their best to stay out of trouble. The sight of his old school rivals make Draco irrationally furious and he could feel his fists clenching with the urge to start a fight right then and there if only to feel something more than just the empty rage.

But he knew well enough that he could neither say nor do something. Not only was Draco still on probation, but Potter and Weasley were celebrated war heroes turned Aurors-in-training. Starting an argument over nothing would only result in Draco seeing the inside of a cell at Azkaban. He'd end up right next to his father and Aunt Bellatrix's husband.

Instead, he scowled at the quickly disappearing train, which was now almost too far away to be seen. He could sense the glares on his back that followed him as Draco left the platform; the eyes followed him everywhere every time that he left the house, observing any and all moves that he made, judging what he did and waiting for him to do something wrong so that accusing fingers could be pointed at him, crying, "See? We knew he was bad!"

No doubt Astoria thought he was a bad person, the worst kind of person imaginable, just because Draco had the gall to show the authority over her that he was designated to have because he was meant to be her husband and she was meant to be wholly submissive to him as his wife. It was clear that Astoria hated him from her refusal to say anything on the journey to Diagon Alley to the way she'd avoided him the entire Christmas holidays, fleeing from the room any time he came in and demanding all of her meals be delivered to her bedroom. She wrote and sent out letters all the time but refused to say much more than a few words to him at any point.

It didn't make sense to him, but her silence bothered him for some reason that he couldn't logically explain. Her behaviour really wasn't that different than the sort of silent treatment he received from Pansy or Violet when they were upset with him, but with Astoria things were different. He found it difficult to brush her behaviour off as just a girl's emotional overreaction like he normally would do with anyone else.

Of course, these bizarre feelings concerning his betrothed would change absolutely nothing about how he carried himself around Astoria; she _needed_ to have a firm understanding that he was in charge or else he'd end up with a wife who thought she could say and do anything that she pleased. Really, the truth of the matter was that Astoria had brought her punishment upon herself by not listening to and obeying him. She had left him no choice but to reprimand her.

So why did he still feel...almost wrong for what he had done?

Draco shook his head, determined to push these contradictions and quite inappropriate thoughts out of his head. These were not the kinds of things he was meant to think as a proper Pureblood.

Reaching the alleyway a few blocks down from Kings Cross, Draco was met by his cousin Libra, who was supposed to take him home since he still wasn't legally allowed to Apparate, thanks to the Ministry. She smirked warmly at him, sweeping the long curtain that was her hair over her shoulder as Draco approached.

"You look like you've been having the best day ever, huh?" she told him jokingly, reaching to hold his hand. They turned and the world pressed tightly around the cousins, pressing them together. In the next instance, the world was right once more, Malfoy manor a short walk away behind the gate. Libra released the grip on his hand and stepped away from where he was. "How much longer are they going to make you live like this? Having to Side-Along everywhere you go must be incredibly embarrassing. I don't know how you can stand to do it."

"Not as though I have much of a choice, yeah?" He was too tired to pretend like he wasn't bitter about the whole situation. Deciding to instead switch to a less frustrating topic of conversation, Draco nodded his head in the direction of Libra's stomach. "So when is the baby due, huh? And when were you planning on announcing that you were pregnant?"

The blush that spread across her cheeks only confirmed Draco's suspicious. "I'm the only six weeks along, I—I only found out a few weeks ago myself, how did you know? I haven't even told Alex yet just in case something goes wrong. I...how did you even know that I was pregnant?" Libra waved her hands nervously before blurting out, "Please don't tell anyone yet, especially not Mrs Vance. she'll have an absolute fit if she finds out that there's a possible chance at getting a grandson. I'm not ready to let everyone know yet...I wasn't ready to be pregnant so soon, I'm only nineteen now, that's too young."

Draco refrained from reminding her that she would be twenty before the baby was born, figuring that probably wasn't what his cousin wanted to hear at that moment. "I won't tell anyone but only if you do me a favour." He took her raised eyebrows as an allowance for him to continue speaking. "Look, for some reason, Astoria is upset with me and she left for Hogwarts without explaining. I know Alex has a younger brother in Slytherin or maybe she'd be more willing to speak with a female cousin, but either way, I need someone who could talk to her so that I can at least understand what it is she thinks I did wrong."

Libra stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. "it's probably because you make comments like that, insinuating that her opinion counts for less than yours. But sure, I'll see if maybe Lucille would be willing to talk to Astoria and determine what she has to say about you. I'm sure it'll all be _wonderful_ things."

"Thanks. This is why you're my favourite cousin."

"May I just ask though why it is you even care enough to find out in the first place? With that Parkinson girl, all she ever did was cry that you didn't pay any attention to her. Why is the little Greengrass different? Parkinson was just as much your betrothed back then as Greengrass is now. What's changed?"

If there was an answer available, Draco didn't know what that was. He couldn't think of a way to put his feelings into words, especially since he didn't really know what his feelings actually were. He knew that he didn't like Astoria, but his distaste for her was not the same for how he felt about Potter or Weasley—that endless frustration at the very sight of them. Whatever he felt, it was certainly more than neutrality but from there, Draco was wholly blind. All he could say was that Astoria was different from any other girl that he knew.

He also knew that he didn't like that fact. If she was different then how was he supposed to control her like he did everyone else? His future wife was a complete mystery and for that, Draco could not help but resent her.

"There's been talk of potential raids on some of the more prominent families," said Libra suddenly, a worried expression tugging at her mouth. "Some of the names on the list...like you or your little girlfriend's father, I could at least understand, but Alex and I are on there, too. I can't comprehend why that would be, we aren't dangerous or particularly wealthy. We don't make for very logical targets, wouldn't you say?"  
"Are there perhaps any dark artefacts in your house?" Judging by the offended expression on his cousin's face, he assumed that, as far as she was aware, this was not the case. "Okay, well then you should have nothing to worry about. Just let the Ministry officials in and don't talk back to them no matter what. If they don't find anything suspicious then you're fine. Beyond that, I don't really know what to tell you."

His words clearly did very little at all to relieve her concerns, but there truly wasn't much Draco could offer in way of advice. The last time his house had been raided was when he was twelve, after Arthur Weasley falsely accused them of harbouring a journal full of dark magic. Over the previous summer, the Ministry had forced Draco and Narcissa to strip their own house of anything that could be considered illegal, so he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that the Ministry was coming around once more to bother them all even though they hadn't done anything wrong as a community in more than half a year.

"I'm fucking tired of being treated like a common criminal all of the time. I paid my dues, I'm still being punished by not having a wand, I renounced the Death Eaters and agreed not to flee the country, unlike Goyle. So why do people act like I'm a murderer, like I'm some evil monster to hide their children fro and lock their doors against? it's not as though I'm the Dark Lord himself—I was just some kid following orders as I was told!"

She shrugged in response. "In a different world, you'd be a hero who stood up for the rights and traditions of Purebloods, like Harry Potter is a hero for the so-called 'light side'. But we live in this world so there's no point in sulking about it."

The two cousins fell silent as the conversation reached its somewhat unnatural end. He coughed and she folded her hands across her stomach, shifting from one foot to the other, wondering if it would be inappropriate to blurt out her good-bye and take off back towards her fairly normal life with her loving, if somewhat absent, husband. She liked Draco well enough but there was something just...wrong about him as of late.

Up the path, they both spotted a brunette female headed their way, making Draco suck in a deep breath, a sense of momentary panic taking over him; he did his best to shake it off, not wanting to appear weak or worse, cowardly, in front of his cousin or anyone else for that matter. He turned to look at Libra, stuffing all emotion down into the smallest, most hidden compartment within him.

"You'd be best to head out now before things get violent," he told Libra, who nodded gratefully in response. "Don't forget to ask either Quentin or Lucille or whoever else you think best appropriate to get Astoria's secrets out of her. And don't worry about the Ministry or the Aurors—they're just violent, destructive morons who don't care for the likes of you or me. We're just in their way, but it's our place in life to prevent people like Kingsley Shacklebolt or the Weasleys from squashing us or even letting them think they could ever squash us."

She nodded again and walked several steps away, Apparating out of sight back to her much healthier, happier life, leaving Draco alone to wait for the brunette female to finish making her way up the path. In this woman, his death awaited him, for she was the most destructive force he had ever met, even when she was perfectly happy, perfectly content. So to see her, though he did his best to push out all emotions and reactions, still made his stomach churn. He was fourteen all over again, finding out that one of his oldest friends had been so much more than he ever thought. Here she was, coming to kill him, the beginnings of an angry smirk spread across her face.

"Hello, Pansy," he said in greeting, waving hello to her as she came up short, stopping in front of him and giving Draco a chilly gaze, crossing her arms across her chest. "How are you doing today? What lovely weather, don't you think?"

"We need to talk," replied Pansy lacking any passion in her voice. "May I please come inside for some tea?"


	19. An Impromptu Return

He was beginning to feel a strong sensation of distaste for the largest sitting room at Malfoy Manor. Everything that could go wrong over the past few years seemed to happen in this room, where futures were created and destroyed, happiness was stolen without warning or consideration of the consequences. There were few happy memories here.

Pansy took a sip of her tea, her lips pursed, the noise she made as she set the cup back down only audible due to the intense silence of the room. She had excelled in her lessons as a lady, as was made obvious by her perfect posture, upturned pinkie, and impeccable manners, all of which stood in stark contrast to the messy, untrained Astoria Greengrass who had two left feet and an extreme dislike for obeying orders.

"I heard that you attended Astoria Greengrass' debutante ball as her date in the same way you escorted me at both the Yule Ball and a year later for my own coming out." Pansy narrowed her eyes, a frown pulling ever so slightly downward at the corner of her lips. "I also have heard that you were spotted away from the celebrations to attend to the needs of Violet Runcorn, who is getting married in two days under the pretence of pureness and virginity, which no one save for her fool of a husband truly believes to be true. If you're going to be obtuse about your dalliances, at least try to act regretful about them later, for Greengrass' sake at least. You owe her that much, I would say since she is to be your wife."

Draco scowled back at her, irritation crawling over his skin as he remembered why he'd never really liked Pansy. "Though what Violet and I were doing together is really none of your business, I will tell you that we were not participating in _dalliances_ of any kind during Astoria's debutante ball. Ours was simply a meeting between friends and nothing more."

"In much the same way that you two were 'friends' when you and I were betrothed? Don't treat me like a fool, Draco. I'm still your closest friend since childhood—I know things about you that would utterly destroy your reputation. I know how you treat women, I know everything there is to know about you."

"Yes, but the same could be said of me knowing all of your secrets, Pansy. What if I were to tell people about the rather...special relationship that you and Daphne had during your younger years? Who would be more ruined, socially?"

"If you ever tell anyone about that, I'll make sure that you pay a hundred times over!" Pansy, in a brief moment of rage, had clearly forgotten all about those lessons on how to be a proper lady. She realised her mistake too late, but in an attempt to back-pedal, stammered, "I mean, that's what I would say if there was any chance and all that you actually had dirt on me, which you don't, obviously, because your accusations are entirely baseless, unlike mine."

There was a very good reason why the two of them never got along, not that this seemed to ever bother their parents, who shoved the two at each other any time that they could. There was just something about them that turned every conversation into an angry shouting match or at least a highly heated debate that resulted in no winners and their mothers coldly reprimanding them while Pansy and Draco made faces at one another when their parents weren't paying attention. It was amazing no one had ever tried to kill the other, considering how violent they got sometimes with their aggressive discussions.

Grinding his jaw, Draco demanded of the brunette, "You said you came here to talk, not lie to my face and insult me. What is it that you came to say? And it better be good or in Salazar's name, woman, I swear I'll kick you out of my house."

Pansy sat up in her seat, an oddly eager expression on her face as she began speaking. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was pregnant and you're the father?" At Draco's horrified recoil, she shrugged and smirked at him. "I was just curious how you'd respond—obviously I'm not pregnant considering that we haven't...seen each other in nearly a year. No, I'm actually here to tell you that your sister contacted me earlier this week. She wanted to know if your mother would be willing to put her on the list of people allowed to see your father so she can visit."

His thoughts went back to what he'd said to Astoria. " _My father cheated on my mother. All men cheat._ " He shook his head, wishing he could get that foolish child out of his thoughts. "What were you doing talking to her? I thought she and Philip had gone to France for the holidays."

"They came back so that she could get on the train in time and she invited me over for tea. And the reason I accepted her invitation is because I don't have to answer to you any more, you don't have the right to tell me who I can and cannot talk to. I happen to quite like your sister, despite some of her more egregious flaws concerning her fondness for muggleborns."

"Yeah? Well, just keep in mind that she doesn't like you in the same way that Daphne did. My sister is _normal_ and I'd appreciate you not corrupting her. The last thing I need is a Pansy Parkinson within my own family. I've already narrowly escaped you once, I don't know if I have the strength to do it again, especially since we're talking about my sister."

She scowled at him. "Tracey says that you seemed upset about the whole thing back in June when she spoke to you. She says that you defended me and that you were on my side. Or is it that now you have a new toy to play with, you don't care about me? Do I really mean so little to you that the younger Greengrass is enough to make you forget over a decade of friendship? And don't tell me we were only friends because we were forced to be—I know that you liked me, that I was practically your sister! You can't just pretend like I meant nothing to you just because our contract was broken. You're eighteen, Draco, it is time to start acting like an adult and stop doing whatever your daddy tells you to without a thought."

There was a frosty silence that hung in the air between them. Once again, Pansy had gone too far, overstepping her bounds, breaching the one subject that they both knew should never be addressed. It had been their major source of discourse for years.

"Did my sister actually ever say anything to you or was that just one of your lies to trick me into letting you into my house?" His tone was slow, deliberate, and very harsh. "You say I should act more like an adult, but you're still using the same childish tricks as always."

"No, she really did ask about Lucius, about being able to see him. Your mother won't answer any of her letters but she was hoping that, maybe, by contacting you, her loving brother, she could have a little sympathy from one sibling to another. Should I instead tell her that, like your mother, you have no heart at all and that you don't care if she ever sees her father again?"

His sister, almost eighteen, who loved to play Quidditch for Ravenclaw, who used to make him sweets the few times they were allowed to play together, who cried when she swatted a bee but could manipulate nearly anyone to do what she wanted. She was introverted but very opinionated, pretty but hid behind a curtain of pale hair. But most importantly, a bastard, the daughter of Emilla Crabbe, along with Draco's half-brother, Philip. They were stains on his father's legacy, his claims of love and devotion to his wife.

"You know why I can't grant her that privilege," Draco replied, trying to push the image of his sister's face out of his mind. "Besides that, he's locked away with some of the most dangerous Death Eaters still alive. It wouldn't be safe or appropriate for her to be down there. He'll be out in a few years—she can wait until then."

Pursing her lips, Pansy glared at him for a long while, the anger making all of her lessons on etiquette fly away completely. She wanted to hit him, to yell at him, to hold him down until he agreed to help and be a good person for once. But it was things like that which made her unfit to be the future Mrs Malfoy, the cracks and flaws which affected the way other people viewed her. Because she was outspoken, he'd tried to stop Harry Potter to save her own skin and other Purebloods seeking to minimise the damage to their families made the decision to distance themselves from her. Her flaws had ruined her betrothal; she would not let it destroy the remainder of her friendship with Draco any more than it already was.

"I feel you at least owe her a written explanation for why you aren't going to allow her to see her father. She's your only sister and I think you owe it to her to tell her yourself why it is that you think she doesn't have the right to visit him."

"Fine," Draco snapped at her, wishing Pansy would be gone already. "I'll write her a letter later in the week and send it along to her, but not right now. Besides, she ought to expect my answer anyway, we know each other well enough that she should be aware of how I'm going to respond to such a ridiculous request."

"Can't a girl hold some hope for anything, no matter how ridiculous it may seem?" Pansy placed her hands in her lap and stared down at them, thinking about the long list of things for which her hope had long ago slipped away. "This would have been an easier conversation if I was just pregnant. At least we would both have the same opinion on _that_ topic."

What would life have been like if they stayed betrothed, if she hadn't made a mistake during the battle? They'd probably be engaged right now, preparing for a summer wedding and Pansy would have moved into Malfoy manor so that she could more easily transition to her new life. No doubt their children would be the leaders of the world, with Draco's bold leadership skills and her outspoken brashness. They'd be happy together, the closest to being in love as they could possibly get, going by the standard of most Pureblood marriages.

But instead, he was betrothed to a naive child that did as she was told and never thought to question anything that was going on around her as long as her parents told her not to. Pansy and Draco would never get married or be happy—because how could they possibly be content when they were now being forced to stay away from each other?

"Do you love her?" Pansy asked quietly, feeling herself sink lower into the seat and wishing she could go back in time to correct her mistakes. "The younger Greengrass, I mean. Do you love her or think that you could ever love her? Does she love you like a proper bride should? Will you two ever be happy together?"

There wasn't an answer that he could give her—at least, not an easy answer that would make any sort of sense to either of them. If he loved Astoria, his feelings of affection were too overwhelmed by his distaste for what she had done to him. And if Astoria had the chance of loving him, she kept that a secret held closely to her chest without giving him any sort of chance to figure out the truth about their relationship.

"A marriage such as ours does not require love to succeed. As long as she is willing to fulfil her duties as a wife, I could not care less how she feels about me as a person. And I certainly don't need to love her to make heirs; if anything, mixing feelings in only confuses the situation. Marriage is a contract, an obligation, and a duty—how I feel about Astoria Greengrass has nothing to do with our being married."

She nodded sadly, having not really expected any other sort of answer from him, considering it was near identical to what he had told her two years ago when Pansy asked if Draco could ever love _her_. If he had feelings for anyone else in this world, he, too, kept them buried deep under the surface, so far down that no one would be able to uncover them no matter how hard they tried to get to know him. And there weren't many willing to even try very hard.

They both got to their feet, Draco leading her to the front door, leaving their cups of tea behind to be cleaned up by the house elves. Pansy was tempted to kiss him good-bye but settled instead for the empty hug that he offered her before she made her way up the path and away from Malfoy manor, most likely for the last time in her life.

It was time for her to move on from what could have been between the two of them. That would be the best option for her.

Pansy didn't want to move on, though, not now, not ever. She would never move on from Draco. She'd not yet moved on from her first love, even after all these years and she would rather die than do so if the alternative was giving up on her emotions.

But then again, perhaps she _would_ be better off dead.


	20. Always a Guest (Never the Groom)

"Then I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," the Ministry official with the squeaky voice declared, twisting his wand so that the final gold band encircled Violet and Oliver's wrists. There was a brief flash of light that surrounded the recently married couple as they leant in for their first kiss, signalling that they'd officially become tied together in marriage. The light faded and Violet swiftly pulled away, barely hiding the look of disgust on her face.

There was a smattering of applause from those in the audience and Mrs Rivers placed her head on her husband's shoulder, beginning to cry, hopefully from happiness. On the Runcorn side, Violet's sisters—who'd been allowed to leave Hogwarts fro the day—stood behind their sister, stoic and scowling. Sixteen year old Bryony and twelve year old Posy clearly wanted to be anywhere else but their sister's wedding, serving as her reluctant bridesmaids.

Violet, despite being entirely dolled up and beautiful, was clearly miserable, even if she wouldn't admit it. Draco had known her for too long to be fooled by the forced smile on her face or the way her gaze fell on pretty much everything except for her new husband. Rivers might be naive and gullible enough to think her charming behaviour was anything more than an act, but Draco could see between the lines, peering into the true Violet Runcorn.

Or, rather, the true Violet Rivers. Not that her name change would do anything to curb the blonde's desires to live by her own rules.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at Draco from across the room, their eyes locking and conveying the exact same message—this marriage of hers was a mistake, a sham, a loveless union that would never result in anything more than contempt and regret. Violet didn't love Oliver, she loved Draco; and Draco...certainly enjoyed her presence more than compared to most girls that he was acquainted with.

The Ministry official hopped down from his stool and, with a clap of her hands, Mrs Runcorn commanded the house elves to begin Banishing the seating to make room for the dance floor. The band, instruments in hand, were already waiting in the back of the room, only a few rows of seats away from where Draco was still sullenly sitting.

He got to his feet, making his way towards where Violet and Oliver were being congratulated by a long line of guests. Violet's fake smile was firmly plastered on and, thankfully, no one from Oliver's side of the family seemed to notice the tense twitching on the left side of her face. Draco noticed, though, the same way he noticed she had pulled away from Rivers, her fingers barely brushing his, her body language reading that she would rather be somewhere else, far from his side, or even accept death as an alternative to her facade of a marriage.

"Thank you for coming," Rivers told Draco when the blond reached the front of the line. They shook hands, Draco narrowing his eyes at the other male, wondering if this scrawny Ravenclaw could do anything to protect Violet in the event that something was to happen to her. He didn't look like he could do anything more than wave his wand uselessly in the air and scream profanities at the sky.

"We appreciate your attendance here today, as well as your support of our union." Violet stretched out her hand for Draco to kiss. He bent low to do so, maintaining eye contact with Violet the entire time, letting her know he could not be driven off by something so insignificant as a ring on her finger. "Please enjoy the rest of your time here today." Her smile became real, if only for that brief second that he touched her.

It was so obvious she was miserable standing next to Rivers, her thoughts no doubt filled with fantasies of a lie where she'd been allowed to marry for love, to tie herself to someone like Draco, who was powerful and wealthy and actually cared for her as something more than just a bride to take his name and bear his children. She wanted to be with Draco, or at least someone more like Draco than Rivers; he knew this because they'd had this conversation many times before, never with it ending very happily.

There were stories that all Purebloods learnt of at one time or another, about those who didn't survive marriage. The women who gave birth once and then gave up, letting the pain and effort swallow them whole and leaving their child with no mother and then, later, a step-mother who saw them as a threat to the legitimacy of her own children. There were the women who kill themselves on their wedding nights or at least within the first year, the ones who were quietly written out of history and burnt off family trees. There were also the women who burnt themselves so that they couldn't conceive or swallowed potion after potion so that their womb became hostile or who simply refused to let any man touch them, even their husband, willing to suffer beatings if it meant not being forced to bring children into this world.

Would Violet be like one of these women, beautiful, desperate, and short-lived? Such a fate was unlikely for her, Draco thought, considering how bold and brash she had always been when she saw fit to be, telling Draco off when she didn't like what he had to say. Sure, Violet could be docile and sweet, but no one could walk over her, least of all Oliver Rivers.

Draco stepped away from the recently married couple, watching the house elves finish clearing away the seating and set up the small stage for the band while a smaller team of elves put together a table full of food, with the wedding cake in the very centre of it all. People hovered by the edges of the room, waiting for everything to finish coming together; the other guests talked in low voices to one another, occasionally shooting him curious or even wary glances, though none of them seemed likely to actually approach him, too hesitant to be seen with a known Death Eater.

Not that he particularly minded their avoidance; even now he really didn't want to have much to do with the world around him, who had accepted the simple story that he was a villain, a brute, and a murderer that was certainly less than they were because he'd been caught doing the same things that they all did as a society.

As the line of guests ended, the band began to play a slow, melodic tune that caused Rivers to turn towards Violet, offering his arm to her. She took it hesitantly, a brief glimpse of her true feelings coming forward before burying it under her usual fake smile. Placing one hand on her waist and the other over her hand, Rivers pulled his new bride into the centre of the room for their very first dance as a married couple. They spun around the floor, Rivers leading and Violet. without showing emotion, just going along with the motions, using all of her lessons from childhood on how to be a proper Pureblood wife to dance along with her husband while still remaining both emotionally and physically distant from him. The young couple moved alone through their dance, her skirts brushing the floor as they spin around and around. Slowly, the first song drawing to a simple close, the wedding guests also took their places to dance, but for a little while, it was only Violet and her husband pretending to enjoy one another's company, playing the game of convincing everyone they were in love.

There was a subtle transition as the couple was joined by the old and young alike, enemy, family, foe and friend, all filling the floor to dance to the music, which had shifted to a much more upbeat, quickly moving beat that inspired an urge to be swift on one's feet and let out a long-held breath, if only for that brief time that the music played.

Standing with his arms folded across his chest and leaning against the wall, Draco remained separate from the rest of the party-goers as he instead chose to observe the interactions of the guests as well as the new bride, trying to pretend that he was above it all.

Bryony, her long blonde curls barely contained in a braided crown tightly pressed against her temple, approached Draco, doing nothing at all to hide the scowl on her face. Her light green gown, which did little to compliment her painted rosy cheeks and blue eyes, draped across the floor behind her, entirely hiding her feet, though her dress' train could never match the extensive skirts of her sister's wedding gown, which caused a space to naturally appear between her and the guests dancing around them to avoid tripping on the gown.

"What do you want, Bryony? Don't you have cousins to bother or aunts to pinch your cheeks?" His eyes drifted lazily to look at her with a critical gaze. "I would prefer to be left alone if you don't mind. It's bad enough I had to attend this nightmare without dealing with unpleasant company the whole time as well."

She shrugged, playing at being coy for a brief moment before dropping the act and replying, "But with me, you _are_ still alone. After all, who would say that the younger sister of someone so pretty as Violet could ever truly be a person of real worth? Besides, I wanted to ask about my sister and what you think of her—I mean, it is her wedding day today and she is, perhaps, the most beautiful woman of our generation. Certainly, she is the most beautiful person that I individually know. Would you not agree to this, that she is better looking than the likes of Pansy Parkinson or even that child you're tied to, Astoria Greengrass? I couldn't imagine you having any other way of thought considering how often you sought to enter my sister's bed, creeping beneath her sheets at night to whisper dark ideas of freedom into her head."

"She's free enough already as far as I can tell," he replied shortly. "Your sister hardly needed my help to start thinking for herself, considering Violet has always had her own dangerous thoughts filling her head. I am not the one to make her so outspoken just as I have done nothing to make _you_ so annoying. You do that all on your own just fine. Stop trying to put a sense of influence on me when I have none to begin with."

The teenage girl scowled at him, miming that she was going to kick him with her foot, though she stopped short of actually making contact with his leg. "Not that it means very much, but I would have preferred you for a brother-in-law. there's something dangerous about you but you're actually part of our society that Rivers will never quite understand. His dad is a muggleborn, did you know? He's only pretending to be important."

Ah, a dark shadow to hand over Rivers and his children, colouring the marriage he'd been tied to, considering that Violet was of much purer blood than he was. No wonder his family seemed so eager to see the two wed though Rivers himself had kept trying to push the date back time and time again, for both his education and a strong desire to not marry at such a young age, when both he and his bride were still teenagers. If he were a true Pureblood, he would understand that getting married young was the only way things were done.

"I would have preferred you for a sister-in-law, too, bratty as you are." It was the closest he'd ever come to complimenting the girl. "With the Greengrasses, I only get a bunch of dead kids and toddlers. You're old enough to argue and debate with, which is a lot more interesting even if your opinions are based off ignorant thinking and make no sense. What am I to do with a toddler who can't even speak in full sentences yet?"

They both fell silent to watch as, the most recent song drawing to a close, Violet pulled away from her husband; from the shape of her mouth, Draco was able to decipher that she was telling Rivers that she needed a break, something to drink, and just a few minutes to herself. He nodded, albeit with reluctance, and his bride slipped from his grasp, leaving Rivers to stand in the middle of the dance floor, alone until some female relative of his grabbed the young man and they disappeared together into the crowd.

"He doesn't want to be married to her any more than she does to him. Violet's been complaining about the union for months now as though it will ever make any kind of difference. But through the whole process, you could see it on Rivers' face even though he never said a word against my sister—he doesn't love her and doesn't want to be with her."

"If his dad's a muggleborn, how did your father ever agree to handing Violet over to him? Why would his family play by our rules if they aren't even one of us?"

Bryony eyed Draco in such a way that he felt that she was judging him not only for his questions but also for mistakes he'd make in ten, twenty, or even fifty years into the future. "If you want the best for your child—if you want to correct the mistakes of your youth that led to your becoming an outcast—then how else to do so than tying your only son to a rich and powerful family? As for my father, he sees it as putting Rivers the senior in his place, showing that, in the end, those of purer blood will always win out."

Those of purer blood—people like himself, of the purest blood one could be. Draco was destined to marry a liar, a fraud, a silly child who knew the rules yet refused to play by them. What would Mr Runcorn say to that, of the terrible situation Draco was now in?

If he was of purer blood, why did his betrothed not feel like very much of a win?


	21. Weddings, Letters, and Breaking Glass

**_Author's note: Edit made 15 April, 2017._**

* * *

January bled into February which bled into March and then April. The days and weeks became identical, indistinguishable, and with that came the inevitable sense that, less than a year after the war, the Purebloods were still on top. Sure, many of them had been imprisoned but most of them were not and some of the lighter sentences were already being repealed or diminished even further. Their confidence came back piece by piece and with that came the ego—the bragging and bravado amongst polite company that by the end of the year, life would be exactly as it always had been prior to the war.

Draco held several meetings with those with whom his family held close financial connections, finding more often than not reassurance that the companies were doing well or even better than in years past. He was congratulated over and over for taking on the position of head of the family, though the reason for why he was now in charge was left unsaid every single time. But there was no more talk of dropping or severing ties with the Malfoy family as there had been over the winter. How quickly they all were to fall to their knees and beg for his forgiveness once it became clear that there would be no repercussions from the general populace or the Ministry.

What gutless cowards Draco found them all to be—disgusting and pathetic as they snivelled, pledging allegiance to him while also pretending to never have had any doubts about him taking over in the first place.

Slowly, one day at a time, the Malfoy family fortunes recovered over those four months until he saw practically no change from what it had been while his father was in charge. How quickly and easily people were willing to forget the sins of the past when it benefited them to do so. Even people like precious Potter largely appeared to have dropped any discussion of Death Eaters like Draco, too busy becoming the golden boy of the Auror department to waste his time on his old nemesis. Draco's name rarely appeared in _The Daily Prophet_ any more as the public largely moved on to other more intriguing scandals that allowed him to finally take a deep breath.

Along with Mother, he visited Azkaban every other week, though Draco rarely actually spoke, allowing his father to dictate commands on how to run the family's companies.

He attended the wedding of Blaise's mother to her newest husband, a younger man named Dagworth-Granger, who seemed much less the epitome of all that was wrong with the world that Blaise described him as being.

With Theo trailing behind, the old friends went to a few parties, had drinks at some of the shadier bars in Knockturn Alley, and just in general began to live regular lives once more, feeling largely unburdened by the occasional glare thrown their way or the fact that 'their kind' was not allowed in The Leaky Cauldron even now.

For the first time in what felt like years, they were truly free of the regime of their parents' decisions—or so Draco told himself. They were free of the war building around the Dark Lord, of the expectations set upon them for being highly ranked members of Pureblood society. No ugly sneer or nasty gaze could possibly touch them because it was now largely outweighed by empty contentment or even apathy towards people like Draco and Theo, or even Blaise for just being a Slytherin Pureblood that hadn't turned tail during the war.

But as it must, May came around and with it were memorials, commemorations to the fallen, speeches about the evils that had unfolded one year ago. Draco was once more thrown into the public spotlight as a furious debate popped up on whether confirmed and convicted Death Eaters should be allowed to attend the memorials at Hogwarts and the Ministry and if such a band should also include people like Pansy who had done nothing wrong, technically, but were merely _associated_ with known Death Eaters. His name was splashed across _The Prophet_ once more as people began to pick up the notion of calling for his arrest once more or at least that he not be allowed to darken what was already such a heavy time for so many people.

The general public seemed to forget that his side lost people last year as well—people like Crabbe, people like his cousin Haffrey, people like Daphne Greengrass who had technically refused to choose a side but who had been intentionally left off of the list of fallen heroes just because she was the daughter of a prominent Pureblood family. His community, too, wished to mourn and remember those who had fallen fighting for what they believed to be right.

All that had gone back to normal was suddenly washing over him and his family, making it impossible to go outside or do much of anything once more. Just as easily as it had been to go back to what they once were, it was also alarming how quickly things could crumble all around him, becoming almost unbearable this time around, for he'd been given a brief taste of normalcy and freedom only to have it robbed from him without warning.

On the first of May, Missy delivered a letter to Draco over breakfast, bowing low to both he and his mother before leaving the room altogether, an ashamed expression on her wrinkly face as she slowly backed away, her spine still flat and stiff as a board. The letter looked innocent enough except for the fact that the sender was listed as being the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, that bastard who had taken Draco's wand.

"What does it say, dear?" Mother asked while taking a bite of her eggs, barely glancing up at her son. "A letter from an admirer, perhaps? Or has your little bride finally decided to respond to the many letters you've sent her?"

His mother still lived in a fantasy world some days, believing that things were fine and that the Malfoy name was highly respected, a world where the war had never happened and Lucius was only away on a business trip and would be coming back home any day now. It was easier to pretend along with her most of the time, but it was clear that this letter was not going to contain any sort of message that either of them wanted to hear.

Running his eyes through the letter, a scowl twisted Draco's mouth and made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Shacklebolt wrote to inform him that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if both he and Mother did not attend any officially sanctioned memorial events. It wasn't meant to be personal, the letter insisted—they weren't the only ones not welcome—but it was still obviously a message that their presence wasn't wanted and there would be repercussions if they ignored the warning. Though Shacklebolt may have worded his letter as though Draco had an option to attend the memorials, he was not a big enough fool to think he'd be allowed anywhere near the likes of Saviour Potter, who would no doubt have praises rained down all around him while the Purebloods were shunned and pushed into a dark corner.

"I think would prefer a letter from Astoria over this. At least something from her would be less embarrassing." He waved the Minister's letter around for several seconds before tossing it across the table for his mother to look at, scowling as he felt the desire to punch something beginning to fill him up once more.

Perhaps he _should_ go to the memorial just to be able to punch Potter in his stupid, smug face—damn whatever consequences that would inevitably follow his irrational behaviour.

Narcissa quickly skimmed through the Minister's letter, her expression barely changing to show a mild sense of distaste. "Well, I suppose that, in this new world, manners _would_ be the first thing to be thrown out the window especially considering the sorts of people that have been allowed to take over in the aftermath of what has been stolen from our people. No doubt they think our presence would be too much for their precious sensibilities. And here they call us cowards for daring to save ourselves. I ought to write to your father and see what he thinks." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You know, he hardly writes to me any more these days."

 _Because he's in Azkaban, where he can't write to anyone_. But he dared not say it, not wanting to break the illusion that brought some semblance of comfort and sanity to his mother's life. She drifted back and forth between reality and a world entirely of her own creation and Draco loved her too much to ruin that.

Setting the letter aside, his mother took another dainty bite of her breakfast, looking like she could hardly be bothered by this newest round of disrespect that they had been thrown into. She gave off the appearance of being above such trivial things as the acceptance of the general populace, all of whom were so far beneath her anyway. Draco had always been impressed by how his mother could remain so nonplussed by everything happening both to and all around her, maintaining the idea that she was far too important to notice any of it. Yes, it was an unhealthy delusion that she allowed herself to sink into, but that her world view had no cracks in it was still impressive and for that Draco could not help but admire her.

"We lost people, too," Draco said quietly, getting up briefly to drop the letter in the fireplace, letting it burn. "Even if they _were_ Death Eaters, they were still people all the same, who fought for what they had been raised to know as the inherent truth. Is it really fair that we're being punished for doing what came naturally to us? don't we deserve the right to mourn our losses and commemorate a tragedy of our history, even if it's for a different reason than the official memorials?" He waved his hand in the direction of the fireplace. "Did you see how the so-called Minister has ordered us to not congregate for any reason during the ceremonies, supposedly to deter our being attacked? As though we're too idiotic to realise he thinks this will lead to a gathering of Death Eaters intent on making a mess of everything. The Ministry doesn't trust us."

"When have they ever?" Narcissa shook her head, setting aside her dirty dishes for one of the house elves to scurry off with. "Do you remember after the fall of the Dark Lord, little infant Potter destroying his body back in the early 1980s, that the Ministry was suspicious of us until that damn fool Fudge took charge. He was...great for people like you and I, of course, getting rid of a lot of the old laws put in place against Purebloods. But the Ministry has never been very trusting of our society even though they love our money."

They fell quiet, Draco resuming his meal while Narcissa stared stonily into the distance, now wrapped up in memories of how her life had once been, back in the day before her husband was in prison and things had not yet fallen apart. She was in the real world now, as evidenced by the pained expression on her face.

"Do you think anything like this could ever happen again?" He looked cautiously up at his mother, hoping that she would assure him that the worst was now behind them. "Could there ever be another Dark Lord in yours or my lifetime or are we fully past all of these arguments about the purity of blood? I think our side has lost enough now to have learned their lesson."

She closed her eyes for a long second, sighing, before Mother replied. "Did they teach you nothing during your time at school? Dark lords come and go, a new one rising every generation or so, each time championing a new cause. Some win, most don't, but at the end of the day, life continues more or less as it always does. There will be wars fought once more during my life, during your life, during the lives of our descendants, never ending feuds until there's simply no one left to fight any more. And when it is only our skeletons that remain in the aftermath, someone will still rise p to overtake what is left of this world. It is in the nature of mankind to destroy both themselves and all that is around them."

Her words hung heavy in the air as Draco gaped at his mother for much too long before he snapped out of his haze and blinked away the bewilderment and shock. "For fuck's sake, you could have at least lied to me and said everything will be alright. I'm your _son_ , your only son."

"You're a man now, Draco, the one who makes all the decisions about where to lead the future of this family. It wouldn't benefit anyone for me to shelter you any longer, even if your father tries to, nor to pretend that the world is something that it is not and will never be. You and your children will suffer just as my parents and I suffered. The only way to get through the pain is to accept that this is how the world works and do your best to get over the worst of it all. That's why I wish you had put more effort into choosing a bride that you could trust so that, when the darkest parts of life reach your doorstep, you could rely on your wife no matter what may come. But we're here now, aren't we, with the young Greengrass as your future companion, so you'll have to do your best to come to trust her to have your back."

As though the morning could get any worse, he had now been reminded of his betrothed, that obnoxious little twit who thought she could ever mean anything to him. If his mother dreamt of a day that Draco would rely upon and trust Astoria then their marriage had failed before it even began. He could not stand his bride.

"How many others do you think received the same letter as we did? Who else do you suppose was forbidden from attending the memorials besides us? I might write to Aunt Aquila and Uncle Haffrey to see if either of their families have been disbarred from going. And those who are of Hogwarts age, but is the child of a Death Eater, how are they to be handled? Do they have to just stay in the school while everyone else heads onto the grounds to mourn?"

The look on his mother's face was somewhere between bored and critical of him, finding him foolish and full of every fault she'd ever tried to protect him from. She was slipping back into her delusional fantasy, her interest in their conversation fading. "Don't bother yourself about the outside world any longer, it does you no good to concern yourself with the things you cannot change. You are a Malfoy—soon enough, the world will swing back to be in our favour once more and you will be on top, as is the natural order of things. Forget what anyone else may do, especially when none of it concerns you."

But he couldn't just ignore it, that was the whole problem, that such a great injustice had been dealt to him and no one else seemed to care. For now, though, he would at least pretend to put aside the issue and act as though he wasn't bothered by all that had been done against him. He could at least shut his mouth for one day to keep his mother happy. It wouldn't do anything to change how he truly felt but it would at least make things easier to deal with for now.

"Very well, Mother," he replied as she stood to leave the dining room. "Should I instead write to Astoria once more to see if she replies? Eventually, I should think, she will have to break down and give into me."

"Who is Astoria?" Narcissa snapped, glaring at him. She was now once more fully in that other world, seeing life through younger woman's eyes. "Is she one of your many side projects, the ones you're always leaving me for? Well, go ahead then, write to her, see if I care. For now, I am off to visit my sister in Azkaban. If the outside world is going to think the worst of us, I might as well live up to their expectations and visit my Death Eater of a sister. If you're going to fuck your little girl today, at least try to be discrete about it, will you, Lucius? I'd prefer to not learn about any more illegitimate children trying to steal away our son's birthright."

And then she was gone, leaving him to finish a cold breakfast and wonder sadly to himself how they could have messed up so badly to be in such a place as this.


	22. Why Aurors and Death Eaters Don't Mix

At first, he woke to silence, with no sign that there was any other living creature in the manor at that point. He opened his eyes and breathed in deeply, wondering if he truly was all alone—perhaps Mother was out doing whatever it was she got up to now. It was raining outside and the idea of taking a walk through the graveyard which he normally waited to do until after breakfast, suddenly became very appealing.

But his silent moment to be alone was ruined in the next instance as there was a loud crashing somewhere on a lower floor and then there was the second of several voices and footsteps storming across the floors and up the stairs, coming in his direction. There were intruders in the manor, unwelcome visitors who thought they had the right to just barge in without permission. He was the owner of this place and all that it encompassed and it was his responsibility to protect everything that his family had amassed over the generations.

Leaping from the bed, he hurried into some clothes and charmed his hair into a respectable looking style before heading out of his room to comfort the people who thought they had the right to just come into his house without his permission. Who the hell did these arseholes think they were, just coming onto his property and destroying his family's heirlooms? He would show them what happened when someone messed with the Malfoy family—he would make them suffer.

A man, tall with dark brown hair and an angry expression in his grey eyes, appeared at the end of Draco's hallway, holding his wand up and pointing it in Draco's direction as the two males came upon each other. The man scowled when he spotted the Malfoy hair and stopped in his tracks, waiting for him to make the first move, no doubt to feel justified in his behaviour.

What could he do, though, without a wand? He didn't know how strong the man was, but Draco was suddenly not so sure that he would be able to take on any of the intruders, having forgotten until that moment that he had no way of defending himself and barely knew anything about fighting using muggle methods.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?" the man asked him in a low, growling tone, waving his own wand in a somewhat threatening manor like he might start cursing Draco if he answered the question incorrectly. "My name is Auror Caulders, we're here to determine that you don't have any illegal contraband on the premises. You would be wisest to go along with our wishes unless you desire to take a trip to Azkaban. Please come downstairs with me so that you don't get in the way of the investigation. We've got quite a number of guys here and they're all really busy."

Wasn't it strange that he found it difficult to resist the man's commands and, as all of the fight fled from his body without warning, he shuffled after Auror Caulders, both of them headed downstairs where there really _were_ many more Aurors going through his father's belongs and one of the kitchens. Someone pushed brusquely past them, going up the stairs in the direction of his parents' bedroom. There were at least a dozen Aurors here, all stomping around like they owned the place, like they had any right to be there.

"He isn't allowed in there," Draco said in what he hoped was an aggressive tone, but actually came out more of a whine as he turned to glare at the man upstairs who was opening the bedroom to his parents' room. "No one is allowed in there, no one can go into my father's office, either, those places are private. Tear up whatever you want, but you aren't allowed in there."

"Don't argue with me, nothing will come of you throwing a fit like a child. We've been given permission by the Minister himself to be here so there's nothing you can do to make us leave. This is a full investigation and nothing you own is off limits, not this time. We're going to reveal your family for the scum that you truly are, you fucking low lives that think you're so much better than anyone else just because of the supposed purity of your blood." Caulders glared at Draco, still holding his wand up, though he looked far more threatening now as he waved it uncomfortably close to Draco's face. "Just stand in the middle of the room and don't talk to anyone while I go get my superior. If you touch anyone or say anything, I'll beat you to a bloody pulp, got it?"

Draco glared at the Auror but did as the older male ordered him, standing sullenly in the centre of the room as uncaring Aurors bustled all around him, not paying him any mind as they went about their business of dismantling his entire life like it meant less than nothing to them.

It was clear to him that this most recent attack on his family home was due to the rise of anti-Pureblood attitude that had struck the general public once more following the memorials that occurred over a fortnight ago. The Ministry had already ransacked his home less than a year ago and neither he nor his mother had done anything to provoke any such search of this nature, with so many men all running around even though Draco had never seen a team of more than five Aurors sent at any given time. His family had done nothing to deserve their presence.

One of the men walked out from his father's painting, carrying a large oil painting that had been up on the wall since Lucius Malfoy was the same age as his son was now. The sight of it being carried out by someone of so little worth made Draco's blood boil and all thought fled from him as he lunged at the Auror in a fit of rage, forgetting once more that, without a wand, he was wholly defenceless. Draco was too enraged to think coherently; the only thing he could thin about was making sure that this thief didn't take off with such an important family artefact and somehow try to pass off a painting as being 'full of dark magic'.

He flung himself at the man, who noticed Draco at the last second and sent the picture to float out of harm's way only moments before being punched in the stomach by the enraged blond that was now running entirely on adrenaline.

"You can't fucking touch that!' the Malfoy heir screamed, unconcerned with how immature he looked just then. This was his family's honour at stake, for Salazar's sake, there was no time to waste worrying about looking foolish. "These are my things and my blood house, you can't just tear through the place as though you own it." There was a crackle in the air that made the hairs on both their arms stand up and a noise that almost sounded like inhuman screeching came from just outside.

Draco shook off the strange sensation of wanting to punch to punch the Auror even more, oblivious to the fact that his attack had been rather ineffectual anyway. The noise sounded like one of his father's prized peacocks, which often screamed when they felt attacked.

Just then the front doors to the Malfoy manor flew open and there was the great saviour himself, Saint Harry Potter, watching as the Auror attempted to pull a still irate Draco off of him while the portrait of his father lay pathetically on the floor where the man had let it fall in his shock of being unexpectedly attacked.

Potter was wearing the same dark brown trench coat and blue robes as all the other Aurors, though he didn't yet have the badge that noted him as a full member. There were also several more scratches across his face than when they had last seen each other, particularly a long, deep scratch across his nose that, if he were paying attention, Draco would have hoped was done by something very heavy and permanently damaging.

The great Potter looked around the room, his gaze falling on the stack of items that had already put piled together under the ridiculous claim that they were clearly artefacts of dark magic, items specifically banned by the Ministry just to punish people like his family even if they weren't in the least bit dangerous or dark.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" Potter asked, raising his eyebrows as the Auror finally managed to Draco off of him and turned to face the so-called saviour of the wizarding world. "Honestly, Shyvers, you know Kirkland is just outside, don't you? You're supposed to be doing your job, not start a fight with people like him."

"Potter." Draco glared at his old school enemy, wondering how his day could have gotten so much worse that blood Potter was now standing in his foyer. "What..." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Of course you're here now of all days, why would you not be? Clearly, the universe has some kind of vendetta against me as though I've done _anything_ wrong at all to deserve it. But why wouldn't you be here, that makes so much sense. I obviously deserve any and all of the terrible things that the universe puts on me."

The Auror, Shyvers, turned to give him a disgusted look. "You do remember that you were a Death Eater, right? The universe owes you absolutely nothing but the worst that it could think of to give you."

The three men all stared at each other for several long seconds before Saint Potter seemed to snap out of his haze and shook his head. "Er...listen, Malfoy, I'm sure you, uh, think that this is all unfair to you somehow but we _do_ truly have all the proper paperwork to be here. Perhaps some of the things being taken are a tad...inappropriate to categorise as unlawful," he glanced at the forlorn portrait of Lucius Malfoy, "but anything we find that isn't up to code means we've got no choice but to record and report it before removing it from the premises. It would be smart of you to kind of...just go along with everything and, more importantly, stop smacking the Aurors. Stuff like this," he looked warily at the painting once more, "will be fine and can be put back where we found it, but if you just fight our every move then I'm not going to stop your shite from being damaged. So keep your mouth shut for five minutes, okay?"

Had there ever been a moment that he'd hated Harry Potter more than he did right then, not including all of them times that the exact same thought had popped into his head in the past? Draco wanted to punch Potter even more than the desire still burning within him that wanted to take another swing at the older Auror.

But he nodded—Saviour Potter had a reasonable point, even if Draco hated to admit it. So, for the sake of his home, Draco stood still once more and watched as the Aurors, including precious Potter now, tore down what felt like his entire house and all of the memories that were tied to the place. They held no regard for the house in which the Malfoy family had resided for three hundred years, and each item they placed in the pile made his heart twinge that much more. Yet, even as the pile expanded, he said and did nothing.

The front door opened once more to reveal a tall woman whose dark hair was done up in long braids that hung halfway down her back. She began yelling orders at the Aurors that scurried around the Malfoy manor even as the door was still slamming shut behind her. This was presumably the recently appointed Deputy Head Auror Kirkland, the one that had put it into the Minister's head that anyone should be allowed into Draco's home—he had seen her picture in the paper last week as she insisted that the Purebloods be inspected once again; at the time, he'd not taken her threats very seriously. He knew just from the sight of Kirkland that he hated her and everything she stood for. There was no doubt that she was the sort of person who thought that Purebloods like Draco deserved to be thrown in the darkest cells of Azkaban sans trial.

Making eye contact with the woman who was most certainly his doom, Draco felt coldness emanating off of Kirkland that he'd only ever experienced when dealing with other Purebloods, that sort of icy, calculating nature that served well to those who wished to excel. There would be no attempt on her end to pretend like her feelings for him were any less than pure hatred; after all, what would be the point in pretending otherwise when her controlled rage against him allowed Kirkland to do some fairly morally dubious activities, like obtain a warrant to search his home without any real justification other than a crime that he'd committed—barely—and been convicted of eleven months prior.

"You're Draco Cygnus Malfoy?" Kirkland demanded of him suddenly, stomping over to where he was waiting for this hellish nightmare to end. When he reluctantly nodded, she looked him up and down with a critical eye, no doubt finding a rather extensive list of non-existent faults and reasons to hate him further. "Strange, I was given a description of a far more skeletal man than you—tall, lanky, painfully thin. You look healthy enough to him." At that comment, she reached out and pinched Draco's arm, making him reel back, only just quieting a hiss of pain lest she begin comparing him to a snake as well. "I suppose being rich helps you get over any physical issues that you might've had." She studied him further. "Not as tall as I'd been told, either."

He was plenty tall enough—just under two metres, which was more than he could say for stupid, scrawny Potter, who still looked like a child struggling to operate a man's body.

Through gritted teeth, he replied, "I'll thank you not to touch me without my permission for the remainder of your time here. I believe that your warrant gives you the right to search the premises alone, my person not included."

Judging by the smirk on her face, Kirkland merely found his vague threat amusing, which only served to frustrate him that much more. Who the hell did this woman think she was, trying to steal his role as the one who was above it all, the one able to manipulate all those around him while remaining aloof and frosty towards those whose lives he'd ruined? She was so infuriating and he hated her, the stupid bint.

"Mr Malfoy, I know you don't like me for a variety of reasons—because I issued a warrant on your house, because I'm a woman who has authority over you, the big bad Pureblood that's always gotten his way. Hell, perhaps you also don't like me because I'm black, though I don't believe that there's much of _that_ in the wizarding world, thankfully. But to be completely honest, I don't care how you feel about me or what I'm doing with my power. To me, you are just one more gnat on a very long list of insignificant insects that I must eliminate, with due time. You are not important, certainly not to me, and not to as many people as you would like to fool yourself into thinking. So whatever resentment you have towards me, I would recommend shelving for the time being. It will not get you anywhere today."

At that moment, one of the junior Aurors scurried over, a panicked look on his face as he halted before his boss, sweating noticeably on his brow and neck, giving his already unattractive face an unappealing gleam to it.

"Er, Deputy Kirkland, there's been a slight incident at one of the other residences that C team is investigating." His breathing was heavy, laboured, and when he shoved a piece of parchment at Kirkland, Draco noticed that where his fingers were forcibly pressed into the paper, it was wet and smudged, leaving the ink blurred.

"What is this?" Kirkland barked at him, refusing to take the paper from the man, who was now shaking profusely on top of the sweating. He did not come across as a very intelligent or confident Auror, at least around his superiors. This Auror was probably the sort that was usually left behind to file paperwork lest he embarrass the force.

"It's the Greengrass house, ma'am, that's where the issue is," the man squeaked out. Kirkland glared at him impatiently so he continued, squirming the whole time. "It's Granville Greengrass, ma'am. He was resisting the search and wands were drawn and—oh, Ms Kirkland, Fletchley killed Greengrass! He's dead, Ms Kirkland, he's dead, him and Fletchley both, they fired at the same time and now they're both dead!"

Draco jerked back in shock and horror. Granville Greengrass was dead? What did that mean for his own future regarding Astoria? Where did this leave the contract he had signed with the man last summer? What—what would happen now that Greengrass was dead?


	23. Receiving the Worst of News

Sitting in the shower with her nightgown still on, Astoria stared mutely up at the water that rained on her head, pouring from the shower head and pooling at her bare feet before circling the drain and disappearing forever. Her fairly dark hair was now the colour of the sky on a starless night and the skin from her fingers had started to prune up five minutes ago.

There was a small part of her that hoped she would drown right there, tilt her head up and let the water cover her, filling every space in her lungs until there was no more oxygen and everything ended calmly and quietly, as it was meant to. She wanted to cover up the train and charm the curtain to push all the water back in until it became a well, a solitary wave that overtook Astoria and made her see only darkness.

Two weeks ago, the school found itself suddenly overrun by Ministry officials and reports who were on the prowl for a good story. Parents, siblings, and friends of the deceased gathered on the front lawn by the Black Lake, where seating had been put in place for the memorial. Students and teachers filed out to greet the visitors and they all took their seats to begin the memorial, a ceremony to remember those who died during the Battle only a year ago. Attendance wasn't mandatory and Slughorn had strongly encouraged most of the older Slytherins—particularly those who were the children of known Death Eaters—to simply stay in the dorms for the day to avoid any sort of controversy from brewing.

This, of course, didn't stop papers like _The Prophet_ from criticising the Slytherin house the next morning for their low attendance, a clear lack of respect and refusal to accept the blame for what had happened. No matter what choice they could have made, the general public would have still found them at fault.

She scrunched up her knees as far as they would bend, resting her head on her thighs and sighing, wondering if this was how life would be for people like her, as both a Pureblood and the future bride of one of the most hated men in the entirety of wizarding Britain. Her children, too, would carry on that cursed name, destined to be written off as little more than Death Eater scum by those who had won the war. She would never command respect amongst those in 'polite society', who now viewed her as being lesser just for being a Pureblood.

The door to the shower room opened and Astoria heard her cousin Lucille call out, "Tori? Are you in here still? It's been a half hour at least, you must be pruned up like an old woman by now—imagine how terrible you probably look."

"I don't feel like talking right now, Lucy, I'm trying to drown myself." She dropped a towel over the drain and turned her head upwards, opening her mouth slightly so that the water trickled into her mouth and nose, causing Astoria to choke. Leaning forward, she coughed the water back up only to feel it wash over her again, leaving her with the feeling of being half-drowned already. "Just leave me alone to die—ask anyone, the whole world thinks I should be dead anyway."

Apparently Lucille didn't agree with that sentiment as the door slammed shut and her footsteps could be heard across the stone floor. Lucille pulled the curtain aside, stepping out of the way to avoid getting her own nightgown wet as a wave of water came washing out from the overfilled shower. Lucille stared down at her cousin for a long moment, an expression of distaste flashing across her features as she crinkled her nose, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards almost into something akin to a snarl.

Water soaked into the bath mat underneath Lucille's feet, little waves spreading outwards and across the floor. The whole room might have flooded if the blonde girl hadn't waved her wand and Banished much of the water, shutting off the overhead tap with a second wave, sighing loudly the whole time.

"It's been two weeks since the memorial, Tori, more than enough time to get over the whole mess. Nobody else is still upset even though we have far more reason to be than you. Some of the nastier Gryffindor boys keep following me around, asking how it felt to bury my brother without actually having a body since the Ministry took Haffrey's and still hasn't given him back. At least _you_ actually had Daphne when it came time for her funeral."

There were times when she truly hated her Malfoy cousin, who was so sure of herself to the point of being cocky and who looked just like the rest of her snowy blonde family self-conceited lunatics. Lucille often looked down her nose at Astoria and the other girls in the dorm, even though they were all related. But she was also family and over the most recent semester in particular, the two girls had grown closer as Lucille suddenly took an interest in Astoria's well-being and hobbies, asking to hang out with her any time they were free. She might have been more suspicious of the blonde if Astoria weren't desperate for a friendly face who was willing to listen to whatever she said without treating her like she was mad or fragile.

"It's not just what they wrote about us in the papers that upsets me," Astoria blurted out, looking up at her cousin. "It's that things were going back to normal, like they used to be, when most people just avoided us. But now, the Gryffindors have picked up the bullying again because they know that no one's going to stop them. Just today that Weasley boy in our year sent little Honoria down a staircase just because her uncle is Albert Runcorn."

Lucille shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by the news that their little cousin was being bullied. After all, Lucille had borne the surname of Malfoy her entire life, a name which was now nearly synonymous with evil and which had never carried with it the most positive emotions. Being pushed down the stairs was one of the tamer attacks she could think of. Besides, the Weasley family was just a clan of far too many dim-witted blood traitors who spent way more of their time trying to climb back up the social ladder than was admirable.

Suddenly the shower room door was flung open once more and Roselle, another cousin, ran into the room, only just stopping short of losing her footing in the water that was still overtaking the floor, as Lucille had been unsuccessful in removing all of it. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bulged out of her head as she gasped for air, looking between Lucille and the entirely soaked Astoria, both of whom were wondering what strange entity had overtaken the other girl to make her behave so out of character.

"The Aurors have warrants out for over thirty-five households all over the country, all of them Pureblood, claiming they've got the right to search the premises because of potential 'dark artefacts' that might still be lying around." Roselle put a hand over her chest, sucking in a deep breath before she continued. "Both of your homes were on the list, as was the Malfoy manor. Even the Vances were attacked, even though none of them were involved in the war and they're the in-laws of the Minister himself!"

Staggering to her feet, Astoria sent more water sloshing around as she stepped out of the shower, leaning forward to grab Roselle by the shoulders. There were three children living at Gresham Hill manor—her two younger siblings and her niece—and Astoria couldn't even imagine how alarming it must have been for them to suddenly find a bunch of strangers barge into the home and bark orders at them. Octavius wasn't even a year old yet, the poor thing!

"Octavius and Linelle and—and Anaed, do you know if they're okay? Do you know if anyone's been hurt or arrested? But—but my father's done nothing wrong, so why would they even come to our house, let alone arrest him? He has to be fine, right? Please tell me he's fine!"

"He's not been arrested, Tori," Roselle replied and had to react quickly to hold up her cousin, who'd grown weak in the knees from shock. "As far as I know, nobody's been arrested yet. But Uncle Granville...it would be better if they _had_ arrested him. He wasn't a criminal, it was inhuman what they did to him."

"What did they do? What? What happened to my father? What happened to him?" Even as she beat her fists on her cousin's shoulder, she knew what Roselle meant, the only thing that could possibly be worse than arresting her father. But she didn't—couldn't—admit that there was truth to what her cousin was saying. That simply wasn't possible, that couldn't be true! Roselle must have must heard the news wrong because her father absolutely could not be—

"He didn't let them in, told the Aurors they could bugger off because he had two infants and a toddler in the house and the presence of armed strangers—especially Aurors—was not going to be accepted in his home. The Auror in charge started arguing with him, and Uncle Granville reached for his wand, the two of them both throwing curses at the same time and...and...well, they're claiming that the Auror's behaviour was just an instinctual reaction, that he didn't mean to, that it was out of self-defence." Roselle pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of her pyjamas, handing it over to Astoria. "This is from the most senior ranking Auror remaining, explaining the situation. Apparently they've detained your mother as well."

Her cousin kept speaking, no doubt trying to comfort her, but Astoria heard nothing but the sound of a crashing wave coming in her direction, overtaking her and causing the entire world to truly go dark, as she'd wished for earlier. Someone screamed and then Astoria saw and heard absolutely nothing at all.

* * *

"Oh good, you're finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to use a reviving potion on you." A curtain of blonde hair brushed Astoria's cheek as she opened her eyes slowly, taking in the too brightly lit room. The woman smiled down at her with blindingly white teeth before cupping Astoria's jaw and forcing a potion down her throat. "Sorry, but Madam Pomfrey insisted on a Pepper-Up potion the second you woke up. She said it'd help you recover and I'm only the assistant right now, doing as I'm commanded."

"Who..." Astoria's voice caught in her throat, becoming little more than a nonsensical gurgle as she tried to make sense of the strange blonde standing over her. How had she ended up in the Hospital Wing? Who was this woman?

"Oh, sorry, I'm Evalinne Wainscott, Madam Pomfrey's assistant or intern or whatever it is you want to call me. I'm a seventh year and I plan on taking over from the Madam when she retires but for now, she can never have too much help in a school like this, so here I am." Evalinne scrutinised Astoria, setting the empty potion bottle on the bedside table. "Your dorm mates brought you here last night after you passed out because they were worried you might be sick or in shock. I heard about your father—I'm so sorry that happened to him, especially since the Ministry claims that it's all about being peaceful and different from how it was last year."

Astoria opened her mouth to reply but, again, nothing close to resembling a human sound came out. Why did this complete stranger care anything for the well-being of Astoria? Why was she talking as though she'd known Astoria's father in any way, as though it were possible for someone like her to somehow accurately speak on his character and worthiness of death?

"I know that a lot of us that aren't in Slytherin tend to lump you all into one big category of the most evil kinds of people, but I want to be a Healer one day, the matron of Hogwarts itself, and if I have any intention of being successful at my job, I can't jump to conclusions about anyone. Beyond that, a dead dad is awful for anyone to go through, no matter what side of the war they were on. Hell, I'd even sympathise if You-Know-Who himself had a kid because it wouldn't be _their_ fault for what he did. If there's anything I can do for you, just tell me, yeah? I don't care if you're a Slytherin, if you're a Pureblood, if you fought on the side of You-Know-Who or didn't fight at all, you're my patient right now and my job is to help you recover. And besides, you seem like a nice enough young woman."

"My mother?" She couldn't think of any other way to respond to Evalinne's words, unsure of how much truth there was to what she'd said or if the older girl was only being kind because she was in a professional setting.

Evalinne wrinkled her nose, looking over her shoulder for several moments before turning back to Astoria, appearing almost embarrassed. "I've not heard anything but I'm sure she'll be here soon enough to check up on you. Especially with exams still being a month away, I don't see why Professor McGonagall wouldn't allow you to go home to help organise for...for everything that needs to be put together. So your mum will probably be here soon enough to pick you up—most likely the Ministry just needs to go over some stuff with her first."

Turning away, Astoria faced the bed next to her, no longer wanting to talk to the Healer-in-training about the matter. There was an emptiness inside of her now, making her feel like something from within her very soul had been stolen away. Her father was gone, dead, murdered for daring to protect his own home. What kind of world was she living in now, that an innocent man could be killed on his own property? Her father, her beloved father—dead!

"I'll leave you now, yeah?" Evalinne sounded less confident of herself now but Astoria refused to roll over to look at her once more. "If your mum shows up or if I or Madam Pomfrey need to give you another potion, I'll come back to get you, but for now, it's a good idea for you to get some rest. I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Greengrass. Your family didn't deserve this."

She shuffled away, leaving Astoria alone with her thoughts, all alone in a dark spiral, wondering to herself what dark power in the universe she must have upset to deserve a fate such as this. Her father, her beloved father, who served only to defend and protect his family until the very end, was dead now. This was real—she had lost so many siblings and now even her own father was gone, killed in his front yard.

And then the thought popped into her head—what would this mean for her betrothal to Draco Malfoy now that there was no one who could break her marriage contract?


	24. As the Dead Pile Up

It had only been a year since Daphne was buried here on the grounds of Gresham Hill manor and now Granville was being added to the row of deceased family members, right next to all of the children who had, unfortunately, preceded him. His headstone was large and somewhat grandiose, with both his and his wife's information listed on it even though Sophronia Greengrass was still alive. But it had been in his will that they would be buried together no matter who went first, and so the headstone had already been prepared.

Draco stood a respectable distance behind Astoria, trying his best to forget the awkward weight of an eleven month old child in his arms. Little Octavius, the unfortunate heir to the Greengrass family, shifted uncomfortably in his eventual brother-in-law's arms and let out a small sniffling sound, rubbing his eyes.

The other Greengrass sibling—three year old Linelle—stood solemnly, holding her niece's hand, the two of them dressed in identical black dresses. Linelle was just old enough to understand that this was a _very serious_ moment, even if she didn't seem to grasp that her father was no longer with them. She'd already asked where he was three times and no one seemed willing to actually answer her question.

Draco leant forward to whisper into Astoria's ear. "How are you and your mother holding up? I'm sure this must be difficult for you, though I can't even begin to imagine since my father is only in prison and the closest relative I've ever lost was a grandfather."

Judging by the pained expression on Astoria's face, that was probably not the correct thing to say even if he'd only meant it to be comforting and helpful. But, then again, Draco had never been particularly well known for having the best tact. If Astoria chose to be angry or upset by his attempts to help her through the mourning process then that really wasn't his fault and he oughtn't be blamed for trying. It was Astoria's fault for not accepting his attempts to make her feel better, not him, that was to blame if things went wrong.

"I turned seventeen last week," Astoria said quietly, turning to look at Draco over her shoulder, a hard look in her eyes. He couldn't tell if she was trying to admonish him for not congratulating her or giving her a present. "And Daph, she would be nineteen now, probably already married—or fairly far along in the engagement process at least—if everything had gone properly. I just don't understand what it is about my family that encourages losing our members so young and without reason or warning. Papa...Papa died on his forty-fifth birthday."

"You speak as though yours is the only family to have ever lost anyone before. Our kind isn't the sort who are particularly long-lived, especially in times of conflict. When there is peace, we excel through perfect manipulation of all those around us, but it is the Purebloods who are blamed when things go wrong and become the unwilling victims of an unjust society. We've all suffered over the last year, not just you."

She scowled at him. "It was _your_ people that started the war, not Potter's, not mine. People like my family stayed in the background, avoiding the conflict, avoiding the suffering—"

"Avoiding choosing a side like a coward with no faith in your fellow Purebloods, hoping precious Potter will take pity on you after the fact."

"You mean like how he took pity and stood as a witness in your defence to protect you from being thrown in Azkaban like your father? Oh, yes, you were certainly wiser for choosing a side, considering it was _your_ side that lost the war. My father was no Death Eater, he never did anything wrong. He didn't deserve to die, didn't deserve to be ripped from his family just because the Ministry can't properly distinguish between Purebloods who minded their own damn business and dangerous monsters like _your_ father or that Goyle boy who's still on the run from the Aurors instead of turning himself in and facing a trial."

Draco shot her a dirty look, wondering how the Greengrass family would handle losing another family member right there at the funeral. How could he have ever thought it possible that he would one day grow to have feelings of affection for this little brat? She was meant to be his wife yet treated him like he was no better than one of her idiotic little friends or a mudblood that could be talked down to.

"You are not my equal, Astoria, nor my better, no matter how often you may think that you are. I am a Malfoy and you are a Greengrass. Do not speak to me as though you have any right to critique or insult me. More importantly, I will be your husband soon and no wife of mine will _ever_ speak to me as rudely as you think you're allowed to. I would recommend that you remember your place quickly before I am forced to help you."

"And I think _you_ would be wise to remember that your last name doesn't carry the same weight as it once did. Your side lost, you are the one whom people will remember in ten years, not me because it was you who was dumb enough to fight. I may not be your better but you certainly are not a higher class than I am, not any more."

Forgetting the infant in his arms, Draco lunged forward and grabbed Astoria by the wrist with his free hand, narrowing his eyes at her. "I have more power than you think, you insolent little brat. My family is wealthier than anyone else and my surname opens doors to possibilities you didn't even know existed. You better be fucking grateful that I'm willing to marry you rather than set you aside and inform every available bachelor about your little problem. Without me, you would be absolutely nothing—just a sad girl with a dead father and no future."

"You'll do well to let my daughter go, Mr Malfoy, lest I choose to hold off your wedding indefinitely. She is not yours to touch just yet." Sophronia Greengrass had made her way over from where her husband was still being buried; her eyes and nose were red and runny but the expression on her face at that moment was a kind of cold fury, a mother dragon defending her young.

He dropped Astoria's wrist, making sure to shoot the girl a scathing look and handed Octavius over to his mother. What a terrible family it was that he had consigned himself to—and with Granville dead and the current heir still an infant, he had no one who could untangle him from this mess, despite his constant threats to Astoria boasting of his power to do so.

Not for the first time, he cursed his uncle for being such a snake.

"Astoria, darling, I've sent your cousins ahead of us to the manor to prepare a few light refreshments and I would appreciate it if you would keep track of the little ones while things get sorted to keep them from getting underfoot." Her eyes lazily scanned Draco, curling her lips into a snarl. "If need be, you ought to also watch over your betrothed too—keep him in line lest he end up like his father."

To avoid socking the woman that would one day be his mother-in-law, Draco glanced around at the crowd of guests, his gaze falling on a woman with dark skin standing a little ways away from everyone else. She had long dark hair and was very attractive for someone who was likely not that much younger than his own mother. Standing behind her was a little boy too young for Hogwarts and, judging by the roundness of her stomach, another child was soon to arrive.

Looking back at Mrs Greengrass, he caught her expression change, a cold, threatening smile shifting into a deep scowl as she, too, noticed the woman who seemed so out of place. Taking another look, Draco noticed that the little boy had the same pointed nose and slightly too large ears that both Astoria and Daphne had been regularly teased for at Hogwarts.

(He ought to know, being the one to have pointed it out to Pansy in the first place, causing her to begin mercilessly mocking the Greengrasses for the shape of their ears, something that Draco had never apologised for, considering it to not really be his fault that Pansy took things too far as she always did.)

"Say, Mrs Greengrass, who's that woman over there? I don't believe I've ever seen her before yet I can't help but think there's something oddly familiar about her." Draco smirked, noticing how flushed Sophronia Greengrass became, knowing that his suspicion must be correct for her to react in such a way.

"As I said," Mrs Greengrass practically snarled, "it would be wise for Astoria to keep an eye on you, Mr Malfoy, lest you follow in the footsteps of your father. I would hate to find that you love to travel as much as Lucius loved to back in the days—a man should not leave his family so often and I hope that you learn from his mistakes."

"It would seem that my father was not the only one who liked to travel great distances, wouldn't you agree, madam?" Rumours of Granville Greengrass' infidelity had popped up before and Draco _had_ thrown the claim at Astoria not too long ago, but he had never imagined that the mistress herself would show up with her love child in tow to attend Greengrass' funeral.

Glancing between her mother and her betrothed, Astoria's brow furrowed as she struggled to understand what was going on. Draco felt a very strong urge to tell her the truth just to see what would happen.

"Go check on your cousins, Astoria. I need to have a chat with Mr Malfoy here." Sophronia narrowed her eyes at Draco, giving him the most threatening glare she could muster. When Astoria opened her mouth to question the situation, her mother turned the furious look on her, causing Astoria to fall silent and take off towards the house with the younger Greengrasses in tow, Linelle practically running to keep up with her older sister.

"I'm not afraid of you," Draco said; after years of dealing with his Aunt Bella and his mother, he found very few women truly intimidating.

She smirked at him, shrugging at his remark. The cold fury was still burning in her eyes but the rest of her was calm, calculating. "I'm not asking for you to be afraid of me, Mr Malfoy—quiet the contrary, in fact. I would love for the two of us to have a rational, reasonable, and _adult_ conversation if you can manage it. Understand?"

Draco, trying to appear as unbothered as Sophronia did, gave his own casual shrug as his reply, although he was a tad wary of what Mrs Greengrass was hinting at.

"Good, I'm glad we've reached an agreement." She stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar of his robes and looked Draco dead in the eyes, their faces mere centimetres apart. "If you ever mention my husband's whore or her bastards again—particularly around my children—I will not hesitate for even a second to ruin your life, Mr Malfoy. Just because your family is rich and people feared your father in his prime doesn't mean you have the strength to wield and sort of authority, especially amongst my generation. You are nothing more than a puffed up, egotistical little boy and you think you're special because of your surname. But you are nothing, Mr Malfoy, absolutely nothing. Don't make the mistake of thinking you are invincible. Say anything and I will _ruin_ you. Do not think me weak just because I am a woman."

"What's stopping me from telling her the truth? She's seventeen, a woman now, and more importantly, she's _my_ woman, my wife to be. What could you possibly do to prevent me from telling Astoria whatever I want? With your husband dead and his heir a mere infant, you can't exactly dissolve my marriage contract."

The same laws that constrained him could also be used to his advantage in a time of need such as this little game of theirs.

"While that may be true, I still have the power to decide her wedding date, considering that my husband was unable to do so before his untimely demise. If need be, I could push back the wedding indefinitely until Octavius is old enough to undo the contract by which point I suspect you will be so desperate for a wife that you'll agree to anything to get out of your betrothal to my daughter."

"You wouldn't dare—"

"Mr Malfoy, when you signed the betrothal contract, within its contents, you handed the right to choose the wedding day over to your uncle Haffrey and myself. Did you not even read what you were signing?" She sighed deeply. "We signed our daughter over to a fool, Granville, do you see this? But regardless, yes, I do have the power to stop you from telling my daughter things she need not know. And yes, I will execute that power if you push me. No, we've got refreshments inside if you would like some. Good day, Mr Malfoy."

The daughter might have been an idiot, but no one could deny that Sophronia Greengrass was a cold bitch—even worse, a clever one at that. He'd underestimated her, it would seem, a mistake that he would be careful to not make again. Draco didn't like being made a fool of, but Sophronia had the upper hand, for now at least, and it would be best if he bided his time before retaliating, waiting to strike when the time was right.

It would do no good to push the Greengrass family while Sophronia still had power over anything involving his future lest she chose to actually do something to prevent his marriage.

How could he have been so stupid as to not put any thought towards his betrothal and marriage? He'd allowed his pathetic excuse for an uncle to take over and ruin everything, leaving Draco stuck in a living hell. He and Astoria were wholly incompatible and hated each other—their marriage would be an indescribable failure with no chance of ever working out.

But he would say nothing and do nothing, not yet, and stick with this sinking ship until he found his chance to destroy Astoria and her entire bloody obnoxious family.

He could keep his mouth shut long enough to get his revenge. He might have underestimated Sophronia Greengrass but he would make her regret underestimating him as well.


	25. Uncomfortable Reuniting

It was June now; Draco turned nineteen, his cousin Arabellia announced that she was pregnant, and Astoria wrapped up her sixth year, meaning that he was forced to go collect his young betrothal with his cousin Guinevere, who would serve as their chaperone as well as pick up her own younger siblings. With both of the couple being of age now, it would be immoral for them to be together without someone to keep them on track and keep their instructions pure and wholesome.

Not that he thought there would be much of a problem of he and Astoria becoming too intimate considering that they didn't even write to each other at this point—though she'd never answered a single letter of his—and they hadn't spoken to each other following Granville Greengrass' funeral. Though they weren't even yet married, they were acting like a couple that had been together for several decades and could no longer stand to be together in the same room any more.

"Are you excited to see your beloved little wife?" Guinevere asked, only just keeping a smirk off of her face. "I'm sure she can't wait to see you either considering how much you two love each other. Such little lovebirds you kids are, right?" She tilted her head to look around the platform as a sea of Hogwarts students came flooding out of the train. "Or have you already passed the honeymoon phase and become cold, heartless machines just going through the motions of pretending to care about each other just like the rest of us?"

"If we ever had a honeymoon phase, it was pitifully short-lived and happened so fast, I blinked and missed it all. We will be husband and wife but nothing more than is required of us. She is not my 'beloved little wife' as everyone is so fond of calling her for some reason."

Sensing that her cousin was becoming agitated—and not really wanting to get into a shouting match on a crowded platform over a girl she didn't really care much for anyway—Guinevere quickly changed the subject. "So how much longer is it until you get your wand back? I would go mad after a week of no magic, yet you've already survived, what, a year? With the amount of work I have to do around the house, I could never succeed if I were in your position. Thankfully, Charles was smart enough to stay out of this whole mess as much as possible after much pleading on my part. Though we _were_ still punished just for being related to Albert Runcorn."

"I'm not getting my wand back," Draco replied in a sulky tone, crossing his arms in much the same way that Guinevere's son did when he was angry about not getting a new toy. "Not only did they take my wand as punishment but they've snapped it in half as well—I received a letter telling me all about it, practically gloating about what the Ministry's done. Apparently, I'll be expected to purchase a new one when my sentence is up in two years' time as though there's anyone left who'll sell to me. And I'd just gotten it back from Potter, too."

Another two years of this miserable, near-muggle existence; he couldn't imagine spending even one more day being this pathetic yet he still had another two very long years to slog through. Draco had only refrained from going mad as of yet by pretending each day that tomorrow was his twenty-first birthday and that he was being granted the right to purchase a wand once more in just a few hours' time.

It wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism available but it worked well enough and helped him sleep at night.

"Oh, look, here come the first little buggers," said Guinevere, pointing to where some fifth and sixth years were disembarking, a certain swagger in their steps; due to the absence of graduating students on the train, these older students had no doubt begun to realise they were now the eldest at Hogwarts and were determined to show that fact off. "I hope Lucy or Serbius thought to grab Brutus before getting off—he'll panic if he thinks there's no one here to greet him." Gwen craned her head to look for her younger siblings amongst the growing crowd.

They watched as students slowly found their families and drifted towards them, hesitant to say good-bye to friends for the summer but eager to greet parents and siblings who were not of Hogwarts age. A few people recognised Draco and pointed in his direction, whispering amongst themselves, no doubt wondering how it was still legal for scum like him to breathe the same air as such pure, flawless beings as themselves.

As though they, too, had never made a mistake in their lives; as though only he were worthy of such harsh judgement from people who didn't even know the first thing about him.

There was a long moment when he looked around to see if he could find his half-brother before remembering that Lucissa had graduated this year and would not have ridden home on the Express this year. How weird it was to realise that, after years of seeing the two just out of the corner of his eyes, serving as constant reminders that his father was a failure.

"Thank Salazar, there they are—oh, and Astoria is with them, that's even better. Now you won't have to go looking for her, how wonderful. Over here, Lucy, Brutus, we're over here!"

Amazing how Guinevere was so casual and cool-headed about yelling amongst all of these people, unbothered by the threat of angry scowls or someone storming up to yell at her for being a filthy Death Eater not even worth spitting on. Nor did too many people really even pay her any attention, too busy searching for their own family members instead. Although that seemed to do very little to prevent anyone from glaring in Draco's direction or 'accidentally' shoving him as they struggled to move closer to the train.

"Did you know that Lucy is getting married to that Abbott boy this summer?" asked Gwen in a low voice, still waving cheerily even as the quartet caught sight of her and headed in their general direction, trunks in tow. "Rather short engagement if you ask me since the papers were only signed last February. But she's almost seventeen now and Dad's eager to see her off, I suppose, lest the little fool tries to run away as she's been threatening to do for years."

"Mother and I got the invitation earlier this year, yes. She forced me to put Astoria down as my plus-one, _against_ my express wishes."

She glanced over at him, lowering her hand as a slight wrinkle formed between her brow. The twenty-two year old pursed her lips thoughtfully, considering the bitter tone to her cousin's voice. "Is there really so much trouble before you've even tied the knot? I know my father is a conniving man but I hadn't realised he sought such a destructive path for you just to further his own agenda. There must be something about the Greengrass girl that you can appreciate, no matter how small it may be."

"We don't write letters to each other and hardly speak when forced to be face to face. She despises me and I want little to do with her, as well as our interests being entirely incompatible—the girl appears to have no interests whatsoever, actually, at least not as far as I can tell. Not to mention that there is potential she could die at any time and that your father tricked me into being stuck in a betrothal contract with no way out."

"Have you made the effort to get to know her? Lucy told me that you slammed Greengrass against a wall and forced her to eat meat against her will."

"I'm to be her husband soon, am I not? I believe I have the right to ensure that Astoria eats a proper, _respectable_ diet rather than engaging in a silly way of life that does not condone itself to producing healthy children. I did not believe myself to be particularly harsh at the time. However, I understand she might have viewed it differently from myself."

Rolling her eyes, Gwen replied, "Draco Malfoy, I do believe you are one of the biggest fools I have ever met. That we are somehow related amazes me and I'd recommend not telling anyone that—ever—should they ask you in the future." She looked away to wave cheerfully as her younger siblings came upon them with Astoria in tow.

The young couple made eye contact and fell into an awkward silence, not hugging like the Malfoy siblings were doing nor did they even shake hands as Astoria chose to instead stuff her hands into the pockets of her muggle jeans—a disgraceful, unflattering style of clothing, he noted—and scowled in his direction, her wand poking out of her left pocket, where it sparked slightly in recognition of Astoria's frustration.

"Draco," Astoria said in a cold tone as her owl let out a small hoot from atop her trunk. "I suppose Mother found herself unable to come collect me instead of leaving me with the likes of you for even a moment. Though I had thought she despised you just as much as I did."

"If you'd ever read any of the letters I used to send you—back when I thought there was some worth in doing so—then you would know that you're to spend the summer with Mother and me to get an idea of what life will be like once you become a proper Malfoy."

"And the lovely Christmas holidays I spent with you wasn't enough for me to get a glimpse into your lives? I'd personally say that I've learnt enough about you to satisfy my curiosity until the day we get married and then some." She furrowed her eyebrows and glanced over to her cousin Lucille, who was helping the younger Malfoy males to lift their trunks onto a trolley they'd stolen from some muggle family who wasn't paying attention.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, stepping out of the way to avoid some puffed up little Gryffindor who had come barrelling his way; the boy kept going in the direction of his parents but his expression was one of bewilderment that he hadn't somehow made contact with the Malfoy heir. _Little twit_. If he could, Draco would have cursed the boy.

"So, Lucy," he called out, catching the girl's attention. "How're things going with Abbott? Has Aunt Drisella overtaken all of the wedding plans or is she letting anyone else take any sort of charge in the matter?" He smirked as an expression of discontent flashed across his younger cousin's face. "What? Don't tell me that Aunt Drisella won't let you do anything at all—surely you've at least been allowed to have some input on what you're wearing or even something stupidly small like the colour of the table runners?"

"Lucy doesn't particularly care for Mr Abbott, which actually reminds me of another young Malfoy that I know. She's been out of sorts for weeks because Father won't answer any of her owls about why she would prefer to be married to someone else." Gwen shook her head at her little sister, continuing, "if it were me, I would ecstatic that Father had the foresight to attach me to a Light family. He tied both Abellia and me to the Runcorn family so now the only thing anyone will ever think about our children is that their fathers are the nephews of Albert Runcorn and that their mothers are the daughters of the Malfoy family."

As though his own children wouldn't go through the exact same thing? Draco wanted to roll his eyes at his cousin but refrained from doing so because he didn't want to start a fight right there in the middle of the platform where people would stare at him and his face would no doubt pop up in _The Prophet_ the following morning.

But his cousins and their husbands had only been charged a few hundred galleons because they had 'shown support' for Death Eaters and no one could definitively prove they had actually participated in any dark activities. They had gotten off so easy compared to his own family that it made him want to laugh to hear Gwen act as though Lucille was somehow getting the best deal out of the three daughters by married off to some Light family with no money to their name.

"Ah. Sounds exciting, I suppose. Well, I hope your marriage is at least more successful than mine is currently going." He glared at Astoria, who looked away slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. "We're not even married yet and we already want each other dead so your own marriage really can't be so terrible if you're at least able to communicate with one another."

"We'd talk more if I thought you had anything of worth to say! All you ever want to do is boss me around and talk down to me like I'm some sort of incompetent child!" Astoria snapped at him, drawing a few curious—and wary—glances.

Balling his fists, Draco forced himself to take a deep breath to avoid yelling back at her. Instead, in a forcefully calm voice, he replied, "I wouldn't have to treat you like a child all of the time if you would only do what I asked of you. isn't it strange how you always were so quick to do whatever your father said to do but disregard what I, your own betrothed, ask of you? But maybe now that he's dead, you'll finally pay me the attention I'm due."

"You shut up about my father, you twat!" she cried, forgetting herself entirely as she rushed forward to hit his chest. He shoved her aside with very little effort and rolled his eyes. "I don't have to do a damn thing until I actually marry you!" blubbered Astoria, attempting another swing at him. "Stop trying to control what I do as though you have any right to do so!"

Ignoring his betrothed, he turned to look at Gwen, who had just finished dragging Astoria's belongings onto the trolley along with her younger siblings'. "I believe it's time for us to go, don't you agree, dear cousin?"

With that, he headed towards the platform exit, leaving Astoria to scream nonsensically after him for several seconds before falling into silence, gaping at his retreating back. He was going to maintain the upper hand in this relationship for as long as possible and getting into public screaming matches would do him no good. Besides, the idiotic expression on her face just as he turned to make sure that they other Malfoys were following him made every moment he would have to spend with Astoria that summer totally worth it.

He was the only true winner here—or at least, he would ensure that he was by the end. He would break Astoria and force her to submit to his will by the time that her holidays drew to a close. She would be begging to follow his every command by the time he was finished with her.

–

 _ **I would like to make the comment that I have absolutely nothing against living a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle. Draco perceives it as being "improper" because he thinks that abstaining from meat will only make Astoria that much more unhealthy (which it can, if the proper precautions are not taken). However, I do not share the same values as he does and do not condone the ridicule or assault of those who are vegetarian/vegan.**_


	26. How We Show Our Love

Slamming the door to the manor shut behind him, Draco turned to look at Astoria, who was standing in the foyer with her arms crossed over her chest and a small frown pressing her lips together in an unflattering manner.

"Did you have something to say or are you just going to keep glaring at me like an angry duck? I have other things to do today besides hauling you all the way home from the station."

"Yeah—I have a question about the wedding."

"Well, what is it?"

What if I choose not to go?" Astoria asked aggressively, now pursing her lips as Draco unceremoniously dropped her belongings on the tile flooring. "I love Lucy like she was my own sister but I would do anything to avoid being seen with you in public. Besides, I wasn't warned of the wedding, I have absolutely nothing to wear that would be suitable."

He'd love to tell her to just stay at Malfoy manor, or even better yet, send Astoria in his place considering that he cared very little for weddings and even less for his cousin, but he knew that Mother would never let him hear the end of it if he even so much as suggested the idea let alone tried to implement it.

"Neither one of us has an option here—in attending this wedding together or us getting married and being forced to spend the rest of our lives in each other's presence. You'll go to Lucille's wedding as my plus-one, which means you'll sit next to me during the ceremony and dance with me for at least one song and during the reception we'll sit at the same table and make the same meaningless small talk as everyone else."

"Reception? Like a dinner? Were—were there options for what was available to eat?" Her brow furrowed with concern and he had to roll her eyes at how immature Astoria's priorities were that the thing she was focused on was the food.

The options had been chicken, fish, or a vegetable lasagne. Draco had set the invitation aside for three days to consider if he would be willing to submit over their argument concerning Astoria's dieting habits. In the end, he'd made what he felt was the best decision for the both of them and sent the RSVP back with both his and Astoria's meal choices and put the whole thing out of his mind until now.

"Don't worry, I put you down for the vegetarian option this time, but don't expect me to be so lenient on you in the future. You're still going to be my wife and I _will_ expect you to concede to me in the future. Consider this a later birthday present if you'd like but don't expect to get any more favours like this out of me in the future."

Her expression was a mixture of shock and gratitude, having clearly not expected him to do something even remotely polite for her benefit; but Draco had been giving their relationship a lot of thought since her father's funeral and come to the conclusion that even if he might be able to make Astoria and he fall in love, it would be far easier to have the upper hand if he could at least salvage what they had and earned Astoria's trust. That way he would have control over her rather than her cow of a mother.

Draco didn't need her love—he needed her loyalty and that was far more easily bought simply by playing nice for one meaningless dinner.

Fiddling with the end of her shirt, Astoria looked up at him, eyes wide and expression almost innocent. If he were a foolish man, he might have fallen for her little charade but Draco knew that Astoria could not be trusted just yet so her attempts to come across as endearing did nothing at all to sway him to her side. This was one trick he would definitely never fall for.

"Lucy told me about your father's other children," she began, voice tremoring slightly as though waiting for him to begin yelling at her once more like he usually did. When he only mutely stared at her, Astoria continued, "Philip and Lu—Lu—"

"Her name is Lucissa. My father's mistress is not a terribly clever woman, naming her child after him. It was a foolish thing to do."

"Er, right. _Lucissa._ I just...was curious if you were particularly close, seeing as they _are_ your only surviving siblings and—and...I know they're bastards but they're family, aren't they? I I had illegitimate siblings—" _Ah, so she still didn't know_ , "—then I would still love them, I should think because we would share a connection and...I don't know what I'm trying to ask. I guess...I...well, Theodore Nott is taking Anaed back, you see, and Mother says that's for the best because he's a bastard even if his father named him the heir and Anaed is a bastard as well so it wouldn't look good to keep her around Gresham Hill. But she's my niece, my only niece, my only remaining connection to Daphne. Why is she being taken away just for being baseborn? It's not like the nature of her birth was anything she could change!"

His thoughts went to Philip, who would be twenty-two that October, and to Lucissa, just barely eighteen. The only other living progeny of Lucius Malfoy other than himself. He ought to hate Philip for being an opponent to his position as heir; he ought to hate Lucissa for clearly being Father's favourite even if they were never able to see each other.

Yet Astoria _did_ have a point—they were his flesh and blood even if they were, at the end of the day, mistakes. He held no love for them as one should a sibling but the two were at least like the distant cousins he saw every now and then and he bared them no ill will to be sure.

This did not mean that he should ever encourage of accepting and loving a bastard within his household—or worse, raising them up to the same status of a lawfully born child. Theo's situation had been an error, the end result of a cruel game played by a pottering old man and Daphne's daughter would fare an even worse fate if Theo was cruel and idiotic enough to claim her over any children he would have with Millicent.

"Please promise me that you won't have any illegitimate children, please, Draco I don't want to see anyone else go through what my niece will. I'm not enough of an idiot to think you won't sleep with anyone else but if you must, can you at least ensure that no pregnancies result from your dalliances? It's all I ask of you."

 _For now_. His little bride was growing bold already just because he had shown her a single shred of kindness. But he couldn't mess things up by snapping at her—not yet.

"Do you know why my father had Philip?" He didn't look at her, not wanting to see the pathetic look in her eyes. Where had the Astoria that argued and snarked at his every breath gone go? He did not like this whimpering, begging mess left in her place.

A compliant wife was something entirely different from a snivelling, useless bint. Besides, if she were emotionally unstable all the time, he would not be able to use her to spy on the Greengrasses and all of his other enemies.

Her reply was little more than a whisper. "Lucy only said that your father loved Philip's mother very much and paid her handsomely every year until he was thrown in Azkaban a few years back."

"You've seen the graves of my older siblings—my father did what he thought he'd have to in order to have his heir. If I'd never been born, they would likely have pretended that Philip was my mother's son and there would have been an entirely different Malfoy heir. Lucissa, on the other hand, was conceived a message to the man that married their mother, a message saying that it was _my_ father that controlled her, not her husband." Draco paused, looking away with a thoughtful expression. "Maxwell Crabbe is the man she married, one of your uncles. He refused to give Emilia's children his surname or home so they live with their grandparents under the Davis name."

"Oh." Astoria opened her mouth in befuddled shock, trying to wrap her head around the father complex sounding story that surrounded the Malfoy family.

"I will see other women besides you, Astoria, but if it will make you happy, I can give you the same promise that my father gave my mother—that I shall do my best to avoid spawning bastards without purpose, but if you don't give me the heir that I need, I will go elsewhere to acquire one. Otherwise, you can have confidence that I shall do my best to be as discreet as possible."

She nodded gratefully, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. "Thank you, Draco, for everything. Perhaps O was wrong, perhaps you aren't as bad of a person as I pegged you for. A tad too conceited and much too strong-headed for your own good, but clearly you can have your moments of kindness. I'd heard that there was not a thoughtful bone in your body but you've proven both me and many others quite wrong. So thank you, Draco, for being so considerate of my happiness."

How would she react when Astoria finally came to the realisation that there was so obviously an ulterior motive to his kindness? She was a Slytherin just as much as anyone else—how long would it take before Astoria remembered that they didn't do nice things for others just out of the goodness of their hearts? He would never willingly be so kind to her without expecting _something_ in return, she had to understand that eventually.

But if she was going to continue being naive enough to think he'd had a change of heart, Draco was not going to ruin the illusion for her just yet. After all, he needed to keep his younger bride under his control for as long as he possibly could.

"We both know that I am nowhere close to being a good man, so there's no point in pretending otherwise but that doesn't mean that we can't grow to trust and respect each other, if given enough time. Hell, perhaps we'll even fall in love like my parents or like one of those faery-tales I know you girls tell each other when dreaming of a perfect husband."

It was entirely unlikely that they could ever grow to love each other, Draco found her too naive and willing to feel sympathy for the lower class and she still thought he was a bully with a highly inflated ego. But then again, there needn't be love in a marriage to succeed. All he was really hoping to get out of his betrothed was an heir and someone he could push to do as he commanded. Love didn't need to factor into any of that.

"I..." She faltered, unsure of herself. "I've also heard stories about the state of your mother's health, claims that she has gone half mad with grief from being separated from her beloved husband."

"The stories are true—Mother has slipped into the past quite a bit, apparently as some sort of coping method if I understand her personal healer correctly. More often than not these day, she lives in her younger years, usually believing me to be my father instead. I have been ensured that it is best to allow Mother to work through everything that she's experiencing rather muddling things further by arguing with her about what year it is. I would recommend that you do the same, for her sake." Draco turned away to prevent Astoria from seeing the glimmering wetness building up in his eyes. "My mother has always been a proud woman. I don't want to lose her."

 _How shameful to be so candid with another person, especially with a woman such as this, one he barely knew and trusted even less._

Astoria patted him on the arm once more, her tone becoming consoling. "I understand how you feel, Draco. My grandfather began to lose his mental faculties when I was a child and passed away the day before my thirteenth birthday. By that point, he didn't even remember who his own children were and thought my grandmother was his mother instead. I would not wish anything so terrible as that on even my worst enemy."

"How old was he when he passed away? Your grandfather, I mean."

"Sixty-two. The Healers told us he was so young to slip away in such a manner but for all their talk of what an oddity his situation was, they never once mentioned being able to actually cure him or even slow down his illness. Now that I'm older, I understand that it was most likely because there was nothing they _could_ do, but at the time, I could only get frustrated at how little anybody seemed to be doing to help my grandfather return to normal."

His voice little more than a whisper, Draco replied, "I hope my mother's condition is only temporary, then. I couldn't imagine life without her. I'd rather die myself than lose my mother." _Malfoys don't show weakness, Malfoys don't show weakness, Malfoys don't show weakness._ He wanted to punch himself, recalling his father's words.

"Wow. I hope you can one day say the same thing about me, or even that we can have a son that feels so strongly about his own parents." Astoria bit her lower lip, brow furrowed. "Some days I wonder what life would be like if we were allowed to marry for love—who you would choose, who I would choose, if we had the ability to. Do you think we would choose wisely?"

There was an odd fluttering in his chest at that moment as Draco made eye contact with his betrothed. He couldn't name the warm sensation that suddenly seemed to fill him up and it made him feel uncomfortable. Surely he wasn't actually developing feelings for the Greengrass girl? _He_ was supposed to be the one in charge of their relationship and feelings would only get in the way and distract him from his goal.

Pushing Astoria away, he gave her a sharp look, hoping that she hadn't caught on that he might be feeling something, no matter how minute, for the brunette. It was one thing for her to think that he at least had a distant respect for her but if Astoria began to even remotely suspect that he might be... _falling_ for her, then Draco would lose the upper hand. He absolutely could not be in love with Astoria Greengrass.

That was _not part of the plan._ Surely it was merely pity that he felt that she had lost so many family members at such a young age. There was no way that her little sob story had actually done anything to actually endear her to him, that simply wasn't possible.

"Let's go find my mother and hope she is a little more coherent today than she's been of late. You do still need something at least actually half-decent to wear to the wedding so that you don't bring shame to the Malfoy family. Muggle pants and t-shirts simply won't do."

He stalked away further into the manor without checking to see if Astoria was following, too busy fuming internally at his own stupidity.

He was _not_ in love with Astoria Greengrass!


	27. Yet Another Wedding (that isn't mine)

Astoria kissed her cousin on the cheek as Draco shook Edgar Abbott's hand, both congratulating the newly wedded couple with as much of a cheerful expression as they could muster. Not that it mattered, considering that Abbott already looked bored of his new wife while Lucille scowled any time she made the mistake of looking in his direction.

"You look quite stunning, Lucille—I hadn't expected your mother to be so modern and allow you to wear such an elegant dress. Who is the designer? Surely not British, we don't do more muggle-looking fashion particularly well here, in my opinion." Astoria was rambling to fill the empty space that fell over the quartet; next to her, Draco and Abbott where bow sizing each other up suspiciously, all their pretences well abandoned now that they'd gotten past the formalities.

It was uncommon for Light families to engage in the more traditional customs like arranged marriages and even more strange when they allowed their children to be married while still at Hogwarts. This made Edgar Abbott an oddity that Draco needed to puzzle out to ensure nothing happened to his younger cousin. He didn't like Lucille all that much but she was still blood and it was his duty to watch out for her as the oldest male Malfoy cousin.

Abbott didn't like Draco because he was a Death Eater and a prick but he had been ordered by his father to not start fights with any members of the Malfoy family.

"Yes," Lucille replied in a drawling voice, bursting imaginary dust off her rather elaborate white gown that draped across the floor. "We had it made in France by one of the most well known wizarding designers—Zacharie LeFavre. He's a tad controversial for picking more muggle fashions but I convinced Mummy to purchase a Portkey just to get me to his studio last August and even then, he barely had the time to finish my dress in time. Thankfully he was able to push our order higher up on his list thanks to a few extra galleons being added to the cost." She smirked. "It was over eight hundred galleons but don't I look stunning? I personally believe it was worth every knut just to make sure that all eyes are on me on my most special day."

On the other side of the room, Lucille's older sister, Abellia, was talking to an auburn-haired woman; she shrugged as the woman asked something and then pointed in the direction of the bride. The woman nodded, thanking Abellia and headed over to the quartet, pausing just behind Draco, though no one besides Astoria seemed to notice she had even arrived.

Lucy was still talking about her dress. "It gives me a great figure, you know, quite slimming even though I don't need much help in that department. I think I look absolutely gorgeous and so mature, too. If only LeFavre also made men's suits, he might have been able to make something a tad more flattering for Edgar to wear." She tugged at the end of her new husband's suit jacket. "This is positively boring and it does nothing to help slim you, dear."

The auburn-haired woman stepped forward, clearing her throat. "If you're worried about your figure, might I recommend not having so many children? I hear they aren't the best thing to keep having if you want to stay thin and pretty for very long." She smiled serenely, looking around at the four young Purebloods with the same casual expression as someone who'd made a simple comment about the weather.

"I'm sorry, but who in the name of Salazar are you?" demanded Lucy, crossing her arms across her chest and scowled at the newcomer. She'd been enjoying talking about herself and her wedding dress and didn't appreciate some stranger popping up to make comments and ruin everything on her special day.

"My name is Rachel Riesende, a friend of your sister Abellia. As have many women over the history of my family, I've been gifted a limited power of foresight and, looking into your future, I find that you and your husband will have nine children together—all girls until the very last one. I suppose you _would_ be wise to keep trying until you acquire an heir, but still, that is quite a lot of children."

Abbott gaped at the strange woman while Lucille spluttered in protest, insisting that she would never even _think_ about having nine children and who did Rachel Riesende think she was? But the woman only turned to look at Astoria, squinting as she inspected the younger female.

"His words of kindness aren't as false as he'd like them to be," she told Astoria happily, "but your happy ending is still a number of years away from now. Perhaps you would be wise to stop looking to the stars for answers and instead look within yourself. Ah—and I sense a flower coming in your future, one that will bring both great joy and endless strife."

"That isn't funny," Draco snapped at the stranger, placing his hand on her arm and not so subtly moved the woman away from the two couples with what almost could considered a push. "Whatever it is that you think you're getting out of this, I'd strongly advise to back the hell off. Telling people horrible things will only get you kicked out and if you keep it up, I don't care if you're a woman, I'll take care of you myself seeing as it's _my_ cousin and _my_ betrothed you're bothering."

She turned to look at him with a critical eye, a strange gleam in her hazel eyes. "You're Draco Malfoy, seen you?" A small smirk appeared as she glanced over at him. "I see dark things in the future, Mr Malfoy, quite dark indeed. What a curious life you'll lead—I'd almost envy you if things weren't going to go so terribly wrong. Tell me, how good are you at memory charms? Marie's happiness will count on that ability."

Abbott signalled for several men to escort Rachel Riesende away from him and his bride; thankfully, she went willingly, explaining to the men taking her away that one of them would be dead within a decade and the other would have his daughter stolen by the Ministry.

Shaking his head, Abbott placed a hand on Lucy's elbow, thigh he still wore an expression of boredom and distaste. "What a bizarre woman," he muttered. "It was nice to meet you Mr Malfoy, Miss Greengrass, but I believe that Lucille and I would be wise to make sure that all the food for the reception is being properly taken care of. Hopefully, we will see you there later this evening."

Waving good-bye to her cousin, Astoria noticed out of the corner of her eyes that Draco was mutely staring after the bizarre woman with a dazed look on his face as though he'd been put under an Imperius Curse and was waiting for the next set of instructions.

"Are you okay?" she asked him cautiously. "You know she's most likely just some crazy woman that crashed the wedding to ramble for a while? She was likely lying about everyone, even being friends with Abellia and certainly about your future being dark and memory charms or whatever."

He nodded blankly, looking unconvinced by her words. "The Riesende family is related to the Potters—some cousin that married a foreigner and had children. They're wealthy enough thanks to the spotter name but not particularly powerful. It couldn't be proven because no one could ever catch them in masks or sporting the mark, but her parents are supposedly both Death Eaters. Not even Father or I know if it's true but the rumours persist anyway."

Eyebrows raising in shock, Astoria felt her mouth open slightly. A Potter choosing the Dark side? Was that even possible considering that Potters were known to be even bigger members of the Light side than the Weasleys and the Longbottoms combined?

Apparently snapping out of his haze, Draco gave her a vague smirk, shaking his head. "But you're probably right about that Riesende girl, she's likely just gone mad, especially if her parents truly were Death Eaters. People with my sort of upbringing aren't usually the most mentally stable, unfortunately. I doubt a single thing she told us had anything more than the smallest shred of truth to it."

There was a forced smarminess to his tone, an exaggeration to his movements so that Astoria could easily tell that Draco as lying, that he was bothered by the bizarre woman's words.

But there would be no logic, nor benefit, to calling him out on the lies, so Astoria merely smiled back, watching over his shoulder as a couple around her parents' age held hands and laughed together. Not that long ago, Astoria was certain she could never have a relationship even a fraction as loving as that couple but something about Draco had changed over the two weeks she'd been living with him. He'd become almost...tolerable.

Sure, he was still an obnoxious prat that was so full of himself that he struggled to remember there were even other people alive let alone in the same room as him, but then again, he had allowed for her to have the vegetarian meal. He'd complimented her dress when she showed it off to Draco and Mrs Malfoy. At dinner just two days ago, he'd asked if there was anything she wanted to do over the holidays and managed to sound genuinely curious.

Perhaps he was just a great actor—though she remembered how Daphne complained of how poor of an act Draco put on after being clawed by a hippogriff, so maybe he was only being kind to get something out of her; but honestly, at that moment, Astoria didn't really care what his motivation was. She was just happy he was finally treating her with some level of decency.

Whatever his reasoning, Astoria was willing to play along with it for as long as she benefited from his improved behaviour. He might think her to be dull and dim-witted, a character Astoria could do very well indeed, but she'd _never_ been the innocent child people believed her to be. Father had taught her far too well how to play an intricate game of chess.

Pointing at the happy couple, she asked, "Don't they look sweet? I do hope that can be us one day." Her tone was even, calm, and she gave him a big smile, internally chuckling when Draco turned his head and rolled his eyes, clearly believing she hadn't noticed.

"That's Blaise's mother and her most recent husband," he replied. "Dagworth-Granger, I think. Quirky guy, or so Blaise tells me, but he certainly comes from money, just like all the ones before him. The only question is, how long will he last? The last guy made it almost two years. Blaise's actual dad didn't even make it a full three years and he was supposedly the love of her life."

"However do you mean? Mother always said Ms Rowle has always had a streak of unfortunate luck when it came to husbands. Surely...surely you aren't implying that foul play was involved in any way?"

"Of course there was, don't be so dense. This is her right husband and each one has always been richer and more powerful than the rest. I assure you, this Dagworth-Granger will likely be dead before the new year can even be rung in. He is too trusting, letting her pet him all over like that in such a public manner. He's a fool."

 _Ah_. So he didn't like public affection. That honestly wasn't terribly surprising given how cold and distant he was to everyone, including his own mother, but it was still good to have a handy list of what made Draco Malfoy tick, stashing away that information to be brought out when it served a benefit.

"I don't know," she said, trying to keep her tone light and naive, "I think they do seem to truly care for each other, just like your own parents." Though more meant as a subtle jab, Astoria truly did think that, from the way she was touching her husband's arm and face, Blaise's mother truly seemed to truly care for the man beyond just the financial compensation his dead body could offer in a year's time.

He grunted in response; behind them, a small orchestra had taken up a slow turn to entertain the guests while the reception was being put together. Blaise's mother happily grabbed her beau and they hurried to dance while Drisella Malfoy and Annabeth Abbott forced the newly wedding couple to lock hands and stiffly spin about.

Glancing at Astoria out of the corner of his eyes, Draco, sounding like he was being forced to speak under threat of death, asked, "Would you

like to dance with me? The last wedding I went to, I was entirely alone and spent the whole time sitting in the corner like an idiot, so as dates, we might as well fulfil our obligation and share a dance."

"How romantic," was her response, but she took his hand anyway and followed him. A reluctant first dance together was at least some kind of progress even if he was much too tall goth we and had to left feet.

For now, Astoria would make do with what she could and hope that the love came to them eventually. But until then, an awkward and poorly performed slow dance was all she had and so, pretending to enjoy herself, Astoria refrained from wincing when he stepped on her shoe or forgot when to dip or spin her. Bad dancing could be forgiven; he could be taught to dance like a proper gentleman just as he could be taught to love and care for her.

At least, that was what Astoria hoped was the case, otherwise she was in for a lifetime of pain that was a little more serious than a bruised foot.


	28. Meeting Lucius Malfoy

Even four days later, Draco was still befuddled that his bride to be was so daft and childlike. The girl still thought that it was possible that someone like Parthenope Dagworth-Granger could ever for love. Hell, later into the wedding reception, she'd confessed to Draco that he was a tad bit of a poor dancer, never once realising that he'd been dancing incorrectly on purpose the entire time, hoping if he slipped up often enough she would come to realise that there was not, nor ever could be, any sort of spark between the two of them. Instead, Astoria had merely blushed and suggested that he could use a few dancing lessons prior to their own wedding day.

But that was a matter to be discussed at a later time; the real focus of today was that it was Lucius Malfoy's forty-fifth birthday and the first time that Draco would be introducing Astoria to his father in an official capacity.

It was a terrifying prospect for all involved, to say the least, dragging someone who knew so little about how the world truly worked to meet a man as knowledgeable and intimidating as his father. No doubt Astoria thought she could simply win him over with sweet words and charm, but she knew nothing about what kind of man Lucius Malfoy was; he would not be swayed by a pretty girl that said a few flattering things.

At that moment, they were in the dingy row boat that took them across the North Sea, along with Mother, who was thankfully having one of her better days and had most of her wits about her. She was the only one who looked any kind of excited to be there.

"So do you not bring your father gifts even when it's his birthday? I would think that, since you see him for so little time, that he would appreciate receiving something, anything at all, from his family, no matter how small it may be." Astoria held firmly onto the row boat as though it were about to pitch her into the stormy seas that rattled the magically held together contraption.

Narcissa shook her head, making the boat rock a little more just by her subtle motion. "They don't allow for presents of any kind in Azkaban—not even if you try to pre-screen it or anything of the sort. I tried to bring Lucius a gift for his birthday last year, but they merely took it out of my hands and tossed the box like it was absolutely nothing at all. They didn't even bother to check what was inside, or else I'm sure one of the guards would be enjoying a wonderful and very expensive ebony and diamond game of wizarding chess right now."

The boat knocked into the rocky shore, making Draco fall backwards and Astoria had to grab his leg to keep him from falling into the water. The Aurors who now stood guard in place of the Dementors both smirked at his fumble, not even bothering to hide their amusement.

"You'd think they would at least have the common decency to save their laughter for when I couldn't see it, if they mus laugh at all, the utter twats." He glared in the direction of the guards but, unperturbed, they only continued laughing and smirking at him. If Astoria and Mother weren't there alongside him, Draco might have tried to assault the Aurors for daring to think they had the right to mock him in any way.

Perhaps because her parents had been neutral throughout both wars, the way that the Malfoys were being treated by those around them caught her entirely off-guard. There was a casual attitude as Narcissa allowed these complete strangers to pat her down in an intimate manner that no one but her husband should and even Draco stood there without a word as they forced him to empty his pockets and mocked him for not having a wand for them to check.

But Astoria instead froze when one of the Aurors waved her over to be able to check her over with his wand. She shot Draco a horrified look as though there was anything that he could possibly do to stop the guards from doing their job. These men wouldn't listen to him, certainly not now that they were all living in a world where his family had lost much of its political power outside of the Pureblood community.

He shrugged at her, conveying that there was nothing he could actually do to help her; one of the guards, growing annoyed with her just standing around, he grabbed her by the arm and began forcefully running his wand over her body, grumbling under his breath.

So, with no other option, Astoria conceded and allowed her privacy to be violated, shutting her eyes and hoping that it was over as quickly as possible she felt a hand run over her bum and gasped, barely resisting the urge to punch the Auror in the face. He merely smirked at her and, noticing the look of utter embarrassment on the face of his betrothed, Draco frowned, looking into the man's mind to see what perverted thoughts he was having about Astoria. What a disgusting waste of human life this man was.

"Perhaps we could speed this process up a bit? She clearly has nothing on her that could be used as a weapon."

The two men glared at each other for a long second before the Auror backed down and let the three of them pass into the actual prison itself.

"Don't engage any of them—most of them are just a bunch of perverted creeps who've not seen a pretty woman in over a decade." Draco grabbed his betrothed by the arm as they walked through the top floor of Azkaban while low-level prisoners peeked out from their cells to gape at Narcissa and Astoria, calling out some of the crudest things her innocent ears had ever heard.

They walked down several levels, the already limited lighting becoming little more than a distant memory, the further down they went, the more serious the crime the prisoner committed. Above them were merely petty criminals, then the rapists, murderers, attempted dark wizards until there was nowhere else to go and the only people left were those considered the very worst by wizarding society—Death Eaters, hiding in the darkest, smallest, rankest of cells. Sloshing through filthy water, the Malfoys had finally reached their location.

And there, at the end of the row, was Lucius Malfoy himself. His long hair was normally a healthy pale blond but after months without a bath, he was of a miserable and unclean wretch than a man any more.

Yet there was still a sense of power, of cold control over the entire situation from the moment that he made eye contact with his son. It didn't matter that they were free and he was behind bars—Lucius was the one in charge and they were simply just meant to fall in line and do whatever he commanded of them.

"Am I to presume that you are Miss Astoria Greengrass?" He gave her a thin-lipped smile as he reached between the bars to kiss her hand. "At the very least, my son was smart enough to pick an _attractive_ bride even if he's apparently a failure in every other category. You are quite a wonder to behold and hopefully, if you live long enough, you'll be able to knock some level of intelligence into Draco. Salazar knows that he's never made a good decision in his life before."

Draco scowled and said nothing while Astoria stepped back and gave her future father-in-law an uncomfortable smile. The air around them seemed to drop by several degrees and it wasn't just because they were deep underground in a rocky prison.

Narcissa pressed herself against the bars to kiss Lucius on the cheek as best she could, ignoring the protests of the Auror watching over them, who insisted that she wasn't supposed to make physical contact for any length of time. She didn't care what little men like him thought or wanted of her, not when she had her beloved husband in front of her once more.

Pulling away from Narcissa, Lucius turned his attention to his son. "What did you do with the Calcotta account, Draco? I told you last time to make sure that Gordon didn't try to rip us off again like he did the last time I renewed it. Did you do as I say or make a fool of yourself as you always do? You fumbled the Brakken accounts, something I cannot fix from here in my cell, do you not understand that? More mistakes like that will costs our family the entire fortune and it'll be all your fault." He shook his head, an expression of disappointment on his face. "I love you, Draco, but you've got absolutely no mind for business whatsoever."

"Calcotta bought on for another ten years, actually." Draco looked at the ground, shuffling awkwardly back and forth, all sense of command and authority that he usually exuded draining from him with every passing second in his father's company.

Glancing over at Draco, Astoria noticed the discomfort on his face, the way that he seemed to revert to a child, the young boy under his father's control. He put his hands behind his back and ducked his head, all sense of the angry, opinionated young man tossed away in favour of someone more malleable to whatever Lucius demanded of him.

The older Malfoy shook his head, hair flying wildly. "I told you to work him into a fifteen, Draco, can you not do anything the way that I ask you to? The remaining two years of my sentence cannot end fast enough—you'll ruin us yet, you foolish boy."

"I did try, Father, but it's not as though I've ever had much experience in working on business deals, unlike you. Besides, I reworked and saved so many of our accounts earlier this year, which you've never really given me credit for, and I've been working very hard to keep our family's name in a place of wealth and power, unlike what you've been doing, just sitting here in prison." It was the boldest he could be at that moment, and even then, there was an obvious shakiness to his voice and he seemed reluctant to have said anything at all.

Almost immediately, he backed down under the force of his father's glare and took several steps back. Never before had Astoria seen him so cowed, literally bowing his head and blanching, biting the inside of his cheek.

She looked between father and son, watching the way that Lucius scowled and threatened, turning Draco back into a child that did nothing but follow the orders that he was given.

"He's your son," Astoria said suddenly, ignoring the protests from Draco to shut her mouth and learn her place. "He's your _son!_ Why are you speaking to him in such a way as though he's incompetent or a failure or has done something wrong? He conducted a deal—and did it fairly well I might add—so you've absolutely no right to complain about his success at all. I've been living in your house for less than a month, yet I can see that Draco works extremely hard to keep up the image of the Malfoy family. Perhaps if you spent more time around him and got to know him better instead of just criticising his every action, then you would see how much he does!"

Lucius glared at her, but like the years of intimidation and threats that he'd used to keep his son in line, she had no memories of her father giving her even a dirty look, so his anger did nothing to scare her. "I see now what you mean about her being quite mouthy and disrespectful, Draco. You'll do well to knock that out of her—and very soon. One shudders to think of the sort of nonsense that already fills her head."

"Excuse me, but no one is knocking anything into my head, thank you very much. If you don't like the sort of things that I say the perhaps you should have kept the bride that you had before you tossed her away in the hopes of looking a tiny bit better in the eyes of the public."

If anyone ought to shudder, it should be her; a husband that was cold and distant when he wasn't busy shoving her around? A mother-in-law that was losing her mind? And a control freak for a father-in-law hat managed to control every aspect of his son's life from a dark cell deep underground? She was doomed, completely doomed.

"I think I'd like you to leave now, dear," he told Narcissa, whose eyes widened as she shook her head, disappointed in the brevity of their meeting. "I have no intention of being scolded and harassed on my own birthday, especially by _children._ Next time you come by, make sure to do so with a little less insolence in your tone—or better yet, without this useless girl. Now, guard, I demand that you escort my wife and son out of here."

Draco scrambled away from his father's cell, with Astoria and Narcissa following behind him. They had barely been in Azkaban for a whole half hour and they'd spent more time making their way to see Lucius than they actually spoke to him. At least she had learnt one thing from this whole disastrous trip to Azkaban; she understood Draco a little bit better now, having seen where he came from and why he acted the way he did to everyone. His father had strict control over everything that Draco did, said, felt, and even thought. No wonder he was so heartless and cruel to everyone around him, with a father like that, who treated his own son so carelessly.

"You shouldn't have antagonised him like that, Astoria. You had no right to do that, he's above you and yet you speak to him as though you're on the same level. You had _no_ right."

"I was trying to defend you, Draco, to show him that he shouldn't treat you the way he does, even if he is your father. His actions are not how any father should behave! You say I speak above my station, so let me speak! You are an adult, Draco, just as much as he is, and you've done so much for your family, sacrificed so much at such a young age, even if it was through poor choices. And yet he always expects more. Don't you ever grow tired of his demands?"

"You will _never_ say any of that sort of nonsense ever again, do you understand me? Never again, Astoria, or else I'll show you that I can be even worse than you seem to think my father is. He raised me as a father _ought to_ , with respect for my elders. It is clear to me that I will need to ensure our future offspring's education, lest you cloud their minds."

He scowled at her and then clambered into the boat, refusing to look at Astoria or his mother as they stepped in after him. The three of them remained silent all the way back to Malfoy Manor, each youth grasping Narcissa's arms once they reached the shore; the heaviness of the day hung over their heads until the moment they reached the parlour, where Draco left his betrothed in favour of storming into his father's office and insisting that no one bother him.

He wasn't seen for three days and the only sound to come from the room were terrible, nearly inhuman screams the likes of which filled the very worst of Astoria's nightmares.


	29. The Malfoy Family Ring

On the third of August, a storm that had begun storming over the last week finally came to a head, leading to a massive downpour that started in the early afternoon and went well into the night.

In her bedroom, Astoria sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring out the window; she hated thunder, a dead since childhood that kept her from sleep and made her shrink into herself like a small child, wishing that she still had Daphne to share a bed with because it was easier to ignore the storm outside when she had her sister to whisper comforting things into her ear and distract Astoria from her fears.

Now, though, she was all alone in the expansive Malfoy Manor, the only one on the ground floor with Draco and Narcissa more than a ten minute walk away from her. Even if she _were_ to locate one of them, it was unlikely that either of them would serve any sort of comfort.

Instead, she clambered out of the bed, hoping that there was still a house elf around that might make her something to eat and hold a conversation to keep her distracted.

Making her way into the kitchen, Astoria found that she was apparently not the only one being kept awake. Draco had his back turned to her and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt— _had she ever seen him dressed so casually—_ and was rummaging through the shelf that stored all the food charmed to stay fresh. He didn't appear to have heard her come in, too busy scrounging around in the cupboards.

He shuffled around and the light from outside fell on his bare arm; for the first time, Astoria saw the mark on his arm, the symbol of violence and death that still hovered over their society's head. She gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth, and Draco turned to gape at her, scrambling to hide his arm, his shame.

"What are you doing here, Astoria?" he demanded, voice practically s growl as he tucked his arms across his chest. "It's half past one, you ought to be in bed right now not wandering around the manor, especially without anyone to accompany you. It may be harder for people who wish my family harm to get inside but there's no way to ensure your safety if I can't say where you are at all times with total certainty."

"Does it hurt much any more?" Astoria nodded at his arm, the image of the skull with a snake pouring from its mouth now imprinted in her mind. She didn't think she'd be able to live with herself if she were marked in such s horrible way.

He stared at her for a long moment, seriously considering her question. "When it rains like this, my arm itches like mad and I can't sleep, so I usually just wanted the manor, but normally it hurt feels like any other part of my skin, just raised a little bit. But that doesn't answer my question as to why you're down here."

"I don't like thunder is all and this is the first really big storm since I arrived here. I usually just lay down next to Roselle and before that, I'd lay by Daphne to make myself feel better." Her gaze drifted down to his arm once more. "Do all Death Eaters have the Mark or did you have to go through some sort of process to be branded?"

Sighing, Draco shook his head. "I'd really not like to talk about this, please, Astoria. It's bad enough I have a physical reminder of my failures that's permanently branded into my arm let alone being asked to speak about it like it was just a gang tattoo or something."

Cheeks going red from her blush, she looked towards the direction of the window right as a bolt of lightning struck, making her shriek and cross her arms over her chest, ducking her head in preparation for the thunder that came only a moment later. Not wanting Draco to hear, she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the whimper that threatened to break her.

"Wow, you really are afraid of thunder, aren't you?" He raised his eyebrows at her and shook his head. "Here, how about you come upstairs to my room if it'll help you at all feel better."

"But—but...is that appropriate? We're only betrothed, I don't think that kind of thing is considered okay."

His chuckle, for once, seemed only endearing rather than mocking of condescending like it usually was. "I just meant that you, fully clothed, lay on one side of the bed and I, also fully clothed, lay on the other side of the bed so that at least neither of us have to be alone."

"I—I suppose that could be okay...I guess." Her gaze kept drifting to his arm as she wondered how it would be possible to sleep in a bed next to the evilest symbol known to her generation. "But..." The idea of sharing a bed with Draco was not what bothered her, but she had never been so close to a male before and she could only imagine what people would think of her if this ever got out.

Shrugging, Draco moved over to another cupboard, this one full of bottles containing expensive meads and Firewhisky. "It's really up to you, I don't care one way or another. Either you can be my company tonight or a large glass of Odgen's will be and both sound about equally good to me right about now. Besides, you'll have to be more...intimate in my bed at some point soon, won't you? It will be your duty as my wife."

It wasn't the most romantic thing he could have said to her, but then again, Astoria wasn't exactly looking for romance here anyway. "Very well then, lead me to your bed. But absolutely no funny business, got it?"

She reached out and took his hand, pulling his arm towards her and giving Draco a soft smile, looking briefly down at the skull and snake before making eye contact with him; he raised his eyebrows as though to ask if this was really okay with her and she nodded. Squeezing his hand, she allowed Draco to lead her out of the kitchen and upstairs to his bedroom, away from the storm.

* * *

The rest of the month went far better than either of them could have expected; Draco and Astoria spoke more often, going on walks around the grounds, and flew around the countryside. He found that she wasn't as dull and idiotic as he once thought and she began to realise that a lot of his more questionable beliefs were mostly born of an entirely different childhood than she'd ever had. Altogether, they almost became...friends.

He even conceded to her wishes and agrees to escort her around Diagon Alley to collect her books and other belongings, despite the fact that he still absolutely hated going out in public and giving people the ability to judge everything he did and said.

It wasn't accurate to say they were falling in love or felt anything more personal than people who were struggling to find things in common—slightly more than an acquaintance, something _just short_ of friends, but still quite far from lovers. Not that either of them truly under, considering their wedding was, at best, still ten months away and there was no sort of sexual connection between them, let alone romantic.

On the morning before Astoria's departure for her seventh year, the young couple found themselves in the dining room set up for breakfast; Narcissa had made herself scarce, heading out early to visit her sister Andromeda, with whom she was slowly rebuilding her relationship.

Suddenly, Draco looked up at her with a very serious expression on his face as he set aside his pumpkin juice. "I stopped by the family vault while you were collecting the galleons needed for your school supplies. Nobody's been down there since the end of the war so I figured that was as good a time as any."

"And how did that go? Are the Malfoy coffers growing as well as you'd expected? Everything living up to your hopes and dreams?"

"Well, the real reason I was down there was that I'd come to the realisation that, usually by now, I ought to have given my betrothed a ring to symbolise more publicly that you're a taken woman. I'd given Pansy a ring to ask her to the Yule Ball, but you and I have been betrothed for a head and...well..."

He pulled a small black box out of his pocket and set it on the table between the two of them, opening it to reveal a golden ring with a snake carved across the top of the circlet, its back a combination of minuscule diamonds and dark green emeralds. It gleamed in the light and Astoria gasped, amazed by its beauty.

As Draco lifted the ring from its box, she noticed that the ring was attached to a necklace chain, which, as he came to her side of the table, was placed around her neck. He locked the clasp, giving her a small smile, pleased to see her look so happy. Astoria leant up to kiss him on the cheek before running her fingers over the stone with an appreciative glimmer in her eyes.

"I figured it wouldn't be practical for you to be wearing a ring all day while at Hogwarts, so I've had it made into a necklace for the time being. It's still an engagement ring, though, and carries all the same meaning as it would if sitting in your finger. Oh, and I almost forgot, if you do _this—_ " He pressed his finger on the snake's head, making it come to life long enough to flick its tongue a few times before curling back into the cold metal, falling still once more. "When the ring was first made by my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather for his wife Abellia, if actually could come off the ring entirely and do little tricks for you, but the spell has clearly worn off quite a bit and no one knows for sure what magic the jeweller performed on it all those years ago. But the real question is, do you like it?" He almost seemed to hesitate.

"I more than like it." She kissed him on the cheek once more, this time for several long seconds rather than the quick peck from before. "I think the ring is very clever, as are you, and I appreciate the meaning behind its creation. Were they in love, your ancestors?"

Nodding, he replied, "According to the stories, yeah, they were madly in love, even dying in the same bed they'd shared for their entire marriage, holding hands as she passed first and he followed very quickly afterwards."

"Then I hope we have even a fraction of the love of this ring's original owners had for each other."

It was cheesy and internally, they both cringed, knowing that Astoria's words would most likely never come true, but it didn't really matter right then because it was a bright moment in their relationship, of which they'd not had very much. Even a slightly awkward moment of connection was better than nothing at all.

Coughing awkwardly after several long seconds of silence had passed, Draco sat back down in his seat and took a large swig of his pumpkin juice. "Well, since I've given you the ring, uh, I suppose that means we're officially engaged now." At her raised eyebrows, Draco sighed. "Okay, fine, as though you've got a choice—but I'll humour your little fantasy. Astoria, will you one day say marry me with the understanding that we both know you will because we're contractually obligated to do so?"

"That is white possibly the most romantic thing I've ever heard." She chuckled. "I suppose I'll have to say yes then since I don't really have much of a choice and you _did_ ask in such an endearing and thoughtful manner that you've left me with absolutely no choice."

"Oh good, I'm glad we agree, otherwise I'd have to slink back to Pansy and hand her all my pride to get her to take me back and let's be real here, I'd much rather be married to you than have anything to do with her ever again." He finished off the rest of his drink. "So Gwen will be coming by tomorrow to take you to the station since I am still unable to Apparate anywhere. I hope that isn't too much of an inconvenience."

"No, that's fine with me, I like Gwen well enough." She watched as Draco got to his feet, setting his cup on his plate for one of the house elves to take away. Oddly, Astoria couldn't keep a small smile off of her face as he started to walk out of the room before turning back to look at her.

"We'll work on this together, okay? We don't have to be madly in love like my parents or like the couple for whom the ring was initially made, but that doesn't mean we can't have something special as long as we put some effort into it. So...I guess what I'm trying to say is that I _want_ to work on what we have."

She nodded happily. "I agree entirely, Draco. I'm glad we had this conversation."

Giving her another awkward smile, he bobbed his head up and down for a moment before ducking out of the room, leaving Astoria to continue running her fingers over the ring, beaming happily to know she'd finally gotten the symbol of Draco's affection.

Today was already going far better than she ever expected.


	30. Astoria's Final Year

Thankfully, Astoria's final year seemed to speed by; she left for school and, after so many weeks of actually bonding, Draco felt an actual twinge of sadness to see her leave. They wrote letters back and forth at least twice a week, mostly to update each other on the minutiae of their lives. Still, before the girls headed off, Draco took Lucille aside, thanking her for choosing to finish out her last year and telling her to continue watching after Astoria as often as possible.

In the meantime, Draco headed back to Gringotts to meet up with Aunt Andromeda, where, after seventeen long months, Bellatrix Lestrange's will was finally being read; her possessions had been under investigation the whole time following the war. Most of the money had been given to Narcissa—with Draco as her representative—and a lesser amount was given to Draco; the small amount remaining was labelled for someone named _Amandus Crabbe_ , whom, the goblin explained, had already collected his belongings and left. Only because he knew she had a toddler at home did Draco offer to give half of his chunk of the money to Andromeda, whom otherwise received only a burnt out cauldron and the family ring.

Gratefully, if not a little puzzled by his generosity, Aunt Andromeda thanked him for the money, kissing him on the cheek and handing him a letter to give to his mother, inviting them to tea the following week if they were interested.

* * *

A few days later, Goyle—who had been located over the summer—was tried for his crimes, heavily fined, and told that he, like Draco and Theo, would be expected to live without a wand until his twenty-first birthday. After being released, he, too, sent a letter to Draco asking if the two could meet up sometime over drinks.

While they were sitting together in one of the few pubs that catered exclusively to 'Dark Wizards', Goyle explained that he'd been hiding out in the muggle world but only chose to return when he received a letter from his betrothed, Bryony Runcorn, who demanded that Goyle either turn himself in or else she would tell the Ministry where he was. Goyle also confessed that he'd slept with a muggle woman the previous December after the two of them got drunk—and worse, he'd sort of liked her, even if the woman was beneath him.

For the most part, Goyle was the same daft, bumbling giant that pretty much stumbled through life, allowing everything to fall into his lap, though to have remained almost completely impossible to locate, he must have been doing _something_ right.

* * *

Two days after that, he met his cousin for the first time. Eighteen month old Teddy Lupin, whose hair went icy blond the second that Narcissa set the toddler in her lap. Aunt Andromeda, clearly still wary of both of them, told the pair that, now that they were the only ones left, she decided it was wise to reach out to what remained of her family rather than continuing to remain distant and bitter about an event that had occurred almost thirty years ago.

* * *

The months flew by and suddenly December had arrived. Violet and Oliver had their first child, a boy named Edmund Ernest, though Violet wrote to Draco in a letter that she didn't believe her son was half as handsome as he would be were her child the result of her love for Draco rather than the offspring of Oliver. Goyle found out that his brief fling with the Muggle woman had resulted in a son after she abandoned the infant on his doorstep; how she found out his name, none of them could quite understand, but the boy was named Vincent and Goyle refused to give him up.

For the Christmas holidays, Astoria invited Draco over to Gresham Hill; he mostly avoided any awkward conversations with Sophronia Greengrass and much of his time was actually taken up by him, Astoria, and the nearly four year old Linelle playing some of the most childish games he'd ever been exposed to. Granted, Draco had largely been raised by himself and he couldn't recall having ever been so immature, but Linelle seemed to largely live in her own world, enjoying the existence of pegasi, talking faeries, and sunny days that never ended. The Greengrass heir, little Octavius, suffered a health scare, developing a high fever and needing to be Flooed to St Mungo's, though he recovered in time for Christmas day proper. Astoria invited Teddy Lupin and Andromeda over, figuring that since the two little boys were of similar ages, they would get along, and, thankfully, the toddlers took to each other right away, bumbling around Gresham Hill and getting into all sorts of messes that was somehow always blamed on Draco.

Overall, it was a nice holiday away from everything that was happening and he grew to know Astoria even better, going so far as to gift her the same wedding robes his mother had worn as a Christmas present.

When it came to the day she had to get on the platform for the very last time, he and Sophronia escorted her there. Before she clambered on, Astoria turned to him suddenly and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

"Don't miss me too much now will you?" asked Astoria, jokingly batting her eyes at him when she pulled away. "And if you decide to run off with some other Pureblood girl, at least do the kind thing and write to me first, yeah?" Kissing him on the cheek, she hopped onto the train and disappeared for her final term.

* * *

February was probably his busiest month of all as Blaise married Tracey Davis, Ms Zabini gave birth to a little girl named Tallah—who was twenty years younger than her half-brother—and then Goyle, mostly under protest, went through with his wedding to Bryony Runcorn, who didn't seem thoroughly enthused either.

Even though she was meant to be wrapping up her seventh year, Bryony had instead chosen to take her NEWTS over the Christmas holidays rather than finish out the school year with everyone else. Supposedly, the whole idea had actually been Mr Runcorn's and from what Draco knew of him, the idea of him forcing his daughter out of school just to get married was not entirely unreasonable. Mr Runcorn had quite a bit of power even from a cell in Azkaban.

Worse yet—or, what would be worse if Draco could bring himself to care—was that this day, her wedding day, was actually Bryony's eighteenth birthday. Everyone could see the devastation on her face, from the tears that slowly rolled down her cheeks as she walked down the aisle to the way she kept turning to look at her mother and sisters as though hoping one of them would rescue her, pulling her away from this whole mess.

If she hated Goyle so much then why had Bryony been so adamant that he come back home? Draco would never understand the baffling bag of contradictions that was Bryony Runcorn.

After the wedding and both his friends had returned from their honeymoons, the three males—along with Theo—found themselves in the gardens of the Malfoy Manor, drinking heavily and throwing stones at any gnomes that they saw, laughing darkly when one of them managed a head shot and sent the gnome tumbling backwards.

"So you're the only one left who's not married, huh? And here we used to think you and Pansy would be married right out school. Isn't it strange how different our lives are now?" Blaise finished off his second bottle and Summoned another one, fumbling and nearly dropping the drink. He had always been the biggest lightweight of them all. "D'you suppose that you and little Greengrass will ever get married?"

Draco shrugged non-committally. "We haven't set a date but I'm not as concerned about it any more, not like I was last year. At least, unlike the rest of you unlucky plods, I'm getting the chance to actually build some sort of relationship with Astoria. You had, what, seven years to get to know Tracey and you still don't know each other very well. Hell, Theo and Millicent seem to want each other dead."

"You never know. I may not like Tracey as a person but it wouldn't shock me if we get a little Zabini in nine months time." Blaise raised his eyebrows and smirked, causing the three other males to groan and throw their empty bottles at him.

"So how _are_ things going with you and Millicent?" Draco asked the least social of his friends. "Your kid's got to be, what, two years old now and she still has no siblings. I know Millicent isn't the prettiest girl alive but ever since she lost weight you can't really say that she's completely unshaggable. Besides, you've got to make an heir at some point."

Glancing around at his drinking companions, Theo's dark blue eyes widened almost as though in fright. "I don't think that's going to happen. We don't share the same room let alone the same bed and I'd prefer that it stay that way. And if Millicent and I never have any children then I have justification to leave everything to Anaed, exactly as I intend to."

The other three turns to look at Theo, Draco opening his mouth in total bewilderment. They'd heard that Theo was flirting with such a preposterous notion but all had assumed that he would get over such nonsense soon enough.

"You _really_ need to get laid," grunted Goyle, shaking his head. "Fuck your wife, fuck somebody else's wife, fuck somebody, don't matter who it is as long as you get a good shag in."

"Says the guy that had drunken sex with a muggle girl and got her pregnant because of it." Blaise laughed, throwing up his hands and dropping his bottle in the grass. "But Greg's got a point, you know—you really do need a good lay, Theo, or else you'll go mad and do something _really_ stupid like try to make that little bastard of yours the heir."

"And why shouldn't I?" Theo jumped to his feet. "Am I not also a bastard, huh? Why shouldn't a bastard name a bastard to be the heir? What do you even know about what it means to be a proper heir anyway—you've had a new father every year, you're nobody's heir. Or—or Draco, who's position has never been in question for as long as he's been alive? Even Goyle has never had anything to question, not that it means anything since he's never had a single question in his life. You're little more of a bastard yourself, Blaise, you filthy son of a bitch!"

He and Blaise jumped at each other, rolling wildly in the grass and thrashing each other; finding their fighting little more than petty and certainly not worth his time, Draco merely got to his feet and walked back towards the house, deciding it would be much more worth his time to write Astoria a letter.

* * *

The next thing he knew, it was late June and Astoria had graduated from Hogwarts, finished her NEWTS, and was now back in Wiltshire, back in his life for good. She'd grown three centimetres in her final term and her hair now fell just past her shoulder blades. Draco had to admit that she was one of the most attractive females he'd ever seen.

"You seem oddly happy. Surely that dopey grin on your face can't be because I'm back? Or are you telling me that you actually missed me?" She chuckled and stood up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek as the house elves took her belongings to her room, which was now upstairs on the same floor as Draco's. Just another privilege of their improved relationship.

He rolled his eyes at his betrothed, replying in a somewhat playful tone, "You're not _that_ special, silly girl. I'm just glad that I don't have t go back to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters until our first son turns eleven years old. you're just an extra bonus to all of that."

"Thanks, I'm really glad to hear that I'm just something extra, like the whipped cream on top of a hot chocolate—I'm a bonus, a special addition you weren't necessarily expecting but that you're pleased to have. So basically what I'm hearing is that you're not just happy to see me, you're positively _ecstatic_ that I'm back."

"Sure, whatever makes you happy. Keep living in your fantastical little day dreams and see how long I'm willing to play along."

He took her by the hand and led her upstairs to show Astoria the bedroom that had been set up for her not only for the summer but also for any time that she lived at Malfoy Manor between now and the rest of her life following their wedding day. The bedroom she was given was only a few doors down from where Draco slept and had its own room set aside for the tub and lavatory. There was even a large balcony that overlooked the grounds of the Manor.

(He had locked the doors to make sure that she would never try to make a jump from the second floor. There was no such thing as being too cautious.)

Turning over her shoulder to look at Draco with a large smile on her face, she asked in a quiet tone, "Do you think we'll be happy together, Draco? It feels like hardly anyone else is happy in marriages like ours but I feel like we've grown so close and we know each other so much more now—and our relationship's quite greatly improved."

"Are you saying that you _aren't_ happy being here with me currently?"

"I—I..." She looked into his eyes, remembering all the things they'd both gone through, from the terrible to the wonderful, and she had her answer. "I am happy with you, Draco. I'm probably the happiest I've been in years."

* * *

 _ **Hey guys, I'm not done with this story just yet (there's still a bit of story yet to go considering they've not married) but I felt now was an appropriate moment to thank everyone (guests and all) for their reviews, favourites, and follows. I know I don't ask for feedback (I figure your appreciation and criticism should come from your genuine opinions of the story rather than my asking for it) but I wanted to take this time to say that I genuinely appreciate every single email that I get after each chapter telling me that someone out there in the world found my writing and thought it worth their time to leave a little note to tell me they like what I'm doing.**_

 _ **Anyway, feel free to ignore my rambling here and just know that you guys make my day.**_


	31. Paying Our Respects to the Dead

He agreed to visit her family's graveyard, as Astoria wished to pay respect to her father and sister. Holding onto her hand and scowling deeply from the shame of it, he allowed her to Apparate them both to the bottom of the hill where the graveyard was located. When they landed the grass was wet and squishy beneath their feet from a light rain that had fallen earlier that morning.

They spotted a dark-haired figure in front of one of the graves and for a brief second Astoria started to lunge forward thinking that perhaps it might be one of her cousins but she stopped after only a few steps, a voice in the back of her head assuring her that this was no relative.

It was Pansy Parkinson they discovered when she turned around and looked at them. For a second, Draco thought he saw tears in her eyes but Pansy briefly turned her head away and got to her feet; when she looked back, her eyes were clear and cold. Behind her was Daphne's grave, where fresh flowers had been set out in a glass vase.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded; it had been ages since he'd seen Pansy and had almost gotten used to a life free of his ex-betrothed. "I didn't realise that the Greengrasses let trash wander all over the grounds when it clearly doesn't belong here."

"Then why are you here if they shouldn't allow trash? But then again, it's hard to keep track of the riffraff when there's no longer a father around to prevent failed marriages that he _really_ ought to have known from the very beginning was wrong. You've been betrothed for what, two years now and engaged for one - when do you intend on actually sealing the deal? Or more accurately, ditch her for a younger girl?"

Astoria's hand tightened in his grip, furious about the comment against her father. Back in the day, Pansy and Daphne had been best friends but for a long time, Astoria had watched her sister reduced to tears by Pansy and her awful friends. And now this stupid girl thought she had the right to make fun of Astoria's father too?

"I'll have you know that Draco is a guest here by my invitation. I don't know who mistakenly invited you or if you simply showed up without anyone's permission, but I can assure you that your presence isn't welcome here. I would recommend that you either leave now or I'll call my uncle to remove you. He lives less than ten minutes from here by foot and even less by Apparation. He also doesn't much care for Parkinsons."

Putting her hands up defensively, Pansy took a few steps away from the younger girl. "I was only trying to visit an old friend of mine. No need to act so hostile when I'm paying my respects." She pointed at Daphne's grave marker and took another step backwards. "Besides, your wards are weak and old now, so it's not exactly my fault that I was able to just walk across the grounds."

"How dare you call her a friend after the years of misery you put her through? Abandoning my sister for people who're 'more popular' and the. spending your Hogwarts days bullying and belittling her? What gives you the right to suddenly decide you were her friend?"

Draco looked between the two women, not really understanding where the hostility came from, having no knowledge of Pansy and Daphne's former friendship and only ever seeing the two fighting in the Slytherin common room, usually at Daphne's expense and to everyone else's amusement.

"Maybe you should just let her wrap up and head out, huh, Astoria? You don't want to get into a fight right in front of your lost relatives and disrespect their memories."

Still wearing an intensely furious expression, Astoria slipped her hand from Draco's and told him through gritted teeth, "How about you head back to the house and inform my mother that we have a slight intruder problem while Pansy and I have a little chat, just the two of us? You still don't have a wand and if things come to blow, I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Though he found her comments insulting, he also knew that Astoria had a point, that he _didn't_ have a wand and wouldn't resort to physical violence towards Pansy. So, per her request, Draco took off towards Gresham Hill to find Mrs Greengrass and inform her of the brewing fight.

The two females faced each other, sizing the other up as though preparing to come to blows right there.

"I know about you, Parkinson - I know what you did to her for all those years and I know why you did it, too. Don't try to pretend like you played no part in what happened to her because I saw it every single year, your verbals abuse wearing her down until she started to actually believe those terrible things. And why? Because you found 'better' friends, people you decided were cooler and whom you didn't want to ever find out you were friends with the likes of Daphne Greengrass."

"You don't know what was happening, you don't know anything at all! The only thing you know is what you saw through your sister's eyes and even she didn't ever have the full story!"

"What more is there to possibly know, huh? You bullied her day after day, week after week until you almost

completely broke her and it took Theodore Nott to put her back together. What else is there to the story other than you being one of the cruellest, most vile people I've ever met?"

Pansy shook her head, hair flying as a breeze picked up around them. "You know nothing at all, do you hear me? Absolutely nothing. I'm a victim here just as much as she ever was."

"Why the hell do you know about being a victim? You only make victims of others - Potter, my sister. She wouldn't have fallen pregnant or run back into the battle that night if you hadn't turned your back on her in those first days of school. You might as well have killed her yourself. You're no victim."

"I loved her, okay?" Pansy screamed the words, beginning to cry pitifully. "I loved her, I always loved her and more than as a friend or as a sister. I knew how I felt about Daphne before we started school and I knew the only way to save us from the pain of my feelings was to push her away, even if I could never explain why. I _loved_ her. And, yes, I blamed myself for her death. I _blame_ myself for her death even now because I know that things could have been different. I shoved her away, thinking it was the only way to protect her and by the time that I realised the error of my actions, she'd already gotten back to her feet had left me by myself."

Frozen in place, Astoria struggled to process what she had just heard. Pansy Parkinson was in love with her sister? Had Daphne ever known that or did she die thinking that Pansy couldn't stand her?

"You should have said something, explained your situation instead of pushing her away. You wanted to save _her_? The only person you saved was yourself, you didn't really care about her. Even being in love with her, you only ever thought about what would be best for you."

The older girl was a pathetic sight, having sunk to the ground and buried her head in her hands as she sobbed openly. Never before had anyone seen Pansy Parkinson so broken, so emotional. Anyone else might have backed off and left Pansy to herself but Astoria had seen her sister beaten down for six years straight. Pansy could get through ten minutes of hearing what Astoria had to say.

"You're despicable, did you know that? You're quite possibly the worst person I've ever met. No wonder the Malfoys no longer wanted you to marry Draco, seeing how poorly you treat everyone around you. I pity any children you may ever have for what they will be forced to go through, living in your home. You -"

"Are you quite finished, Astoria? The girl's already in tears, there's no need to keep pushing your point because you've clearly made it already." Mrs Greengrass, Draco trailing just behind her, glared at her daughter and shook her head in disappointment. "I thought I raised you to know better than to stoop to the same level as your enemies. Obviously, I was quite wrong about that."

"Mother! Don't you understand why she did to Daphne for so many years? She deserves nothing from us but contempt for how she treated me. I'm not lowering myself."

Mrs Greengrass moved to help Pansy to her feet. "There's quite a bit about the world that you still don't understand, dead daughter of mine. Do you honestly think I never noticed Miss Parkinson's attraction to Daphne? Or that Daphne herself never knew? Certainly, I came to that realisation much sooner than my daughter, but it was not the most well-kept secret."

Pansy gasped as Mrs Greengrass suddenly took her free hand and wrapped it around her throat, slamming the younger female into one of the headstones. Holding up the hand that had previously gripped Pansy's arm, she waved off Draco and Astoria.

"Now, while I _did_ know this entire time _why_ you put my eldest daughter through emotional turmoil, that doesn't mean that I in any way accept it. I've been waiting for you to come back so that I could one day say this to you, Miss Parkinson, so listen carefully. If you love someone, you don't hurt them because that sort of behaviour helps absolutely no one. I won't pretend to understand how you feel because I don't have any sort of twisted love like you do, but _this_ is not how to react." Mrs Greengrass loosened her grip on Pansy's neck and pushed her away. "If I ever see you again, I will make your life absolutely miserable. Now _leave_."

Nodding wildly - and with eyes large from fear - Pansy sprinted away from the graveyard until she left the property altogether and Apparated out of sight. She moved so quickly that her steps didn't even seem to leave impressions in the grass.

Turning back to her daughter and future son-in-law, Mrs Greengrass made a shooing motion. "I'd recommend you two head out as well and get done whatever else it is you had planned to do today. I would like to be alone for the rest of the day."

Draco took Astoria's hand once more and, understand what he wanted, she turned on her heel and Apparated them back to the Malfoy Manor. Once they'd arrived, she stepped away and gave him a scrutinising look.

"Did you know about Pansy?" she demanded of him angrily, her fists clenching once more.

"About her being interested in females? Yeah, for a few years now, ever since I noticed that a lot of Pansy's thoughts were full of pretty girls that went to school with us, like Parvati Patil or Katie Bell. But I never got the sense she was in love with your sister; I think that was the one thing she was able to hide from even me because she was so embarrassed about it."

"So she's a lesbian? And you were still going to marry her? Why would you put up with someone like that?"

Frowning, Draco tilted his head and looked away for a brief second. "I don't think that's quite the word for Pansy - she likes guys well enough. Besides, I didn't find out until late in the fifth year and it didn't feel right to break off our engagement over something that wouldn't really come to have any consequences."

"Unlike screaming for someone to grab the Boy-Who-Lived and turn him in to the Dark Lord?"

"Politics are politics, Astoria. A wife that lusts after both sexes but knows her place is nothing compared to a wife who attempted to hand over the 'saviour' to the one man who most wanted to see him dead. Certainly, I'd prefer a wife that wanted no one to me, but I also understand that it is a woman's nature to feel things as long as she knows not to touch."

"What if I were to tell you that I am like Pansy? That I feel things for women that I know I ought not to? Would you allow me to continue being your betrothed and one day your wife? Or am I already too much of tainted goods and this is what you find to be the last straw?"

He looked at her critically, almost curiously. "Is this your way of telling me that you also lust for women? Because my stance remains the same on the matter, that you may feel whatever you want for whoever you want, but have enough sense to remember that you may only ever be my wife and no one else shall have you."

"I didn't _say_ that I was the same as her, only wondering how you would react if I were. But I'm glad that you aren't a hypocrite about _everything_ \- though as I recall, you do seem to think you have the right to sleep with whoever you want."

"Only if I deem it necessary -"

"You mean if she's attractive?" Astoria shook her head, not sure why she was pressing the issue. It wasn't as though she expected him to _not_ see other women besides herself.

"Let's not fight about this, okay? We've been doing so well to get to know each other and work on what we have, I don't want the likes of Pansy Parkinson to ruin things, not when she isn't even worth it. Just try to forget about her because we'll likely never see her again."

Astoria nodded in his direction, allowing her betrothed to walk back towards Malfoy Manor by himself, making the excuse that she wanted some time alone to think. Shrugging, he left Astoria to her own devices, his thoughts immediately going to what they would be having for dinner that night.

He didn't - and couldn't be allowed to - know the truth about Astoria, no matter how open-minded he claimed to be. It was easy enough to lie about it being okay, especially now that there were no consequences for having a wife who moved women.

But there was a reason she hated Pansy and it went beyond what the older girl had done to her sister. How cruel the world was to make Astoria have feelings for such a manipulative, hateful pug-faced woman, especially her sister's tormentor.

It would be _her_ secret; she would never let Draco know how she truly felt about Pansy Parkinson.


	32. Nightmares

There was a muffled screaming sound from somewhere in the house that woke Astoria up; stumbling from her bed, she stuck her head out the door where the sound only became that much louder. Was there an intruder in the Malfoy manor? But the sound seemed to be coming from only a few doors down and it only sounded like one person.

"Hello?" she called out, following the sound to Draco's door. Tentatively, she pushed it open and saw a figure in the bed, thrashing around wildly and screaming as though in intense pain. She moved closer, pulling the covers off slightly to discover that it was Draco who was screaming, clearly caught in the middle of some terrible nightmare.

"No!" he yelled, waving his arms and nearly smacking Astoria in the face. "No, no, I can't, please, I need more time, I don't have enough time. Please give me one more chance, I'm begging you, I just need another chance, please, please, please!" He writhed in the bed, twisting and turning as though he were dodging attacks coming from all sides.

She grabbed him by shoulders, struggling to pull Draco out of the bed and get him to wake up. Smacking him lightly on either side of his face, Astoria pressed on his chest, wondering what awful nightmares her betrothed was seeing in his head that made him panic in such a way.

"Wake up, Draco, you're only dressing, just wake up and it'll all go away." She grabbed the collar of his shirt, jerking him forward to press their heads together. "Please wake up, I don't like when you scream like this, it isn't okay. Wake up, wake up."

His eyes fluttered as he started to wake, focusing and unfocusing every few seconds, struggling to distinguish between the world of his nightmares and that of his reality.

Looking up at her, he froze in shock to realise that Astoria was right in front of him before attempting to back away from her and hit the side of the bed. This was clearly not what he'd expected to wake up to, seeing his betrothed standing over him with a worried expression on her face. The nightmares were just one more secret that one of them had been keeping from the other, anther source of shame.

His expression became irritated, almost furious, as his brain processed that Astoria had stumbled across something that he so clearly had been trying to hide from everyone else and from her in particular.

"I'm sure that I don't have to tell you that you shouldn't be here right now since I absolutely _did not_ invite you into my bedroom. In fact, I would recommend that you get the hell out of my room before I throw something very large and very heavy at your head."

Astoria backed away a few steps, but didn't leave; she was genuinely worried about the source of Draco's nightmares and, if she would admit it to herself, a tad morbidly curious, wanting to discover just what it was that made the likes of the young Malfoy heir so frightened that he started screaming in his sleep.

"You were crying," she said almost in a whisper. "You were crying and screaming—why? What happened to make you cry like that?"

Pushing himself away from the bed, he pressed himself against her, grabbing Astoria by her upper arms and spinning her around so that her back was against the bed frame, the wood pressing into her spine. Draco was much taller and stronger than she was and the whole situation was making her flash back to when he had slapped her two years ago.

"Are you deaf, Astoria? I said that you will leave and you will leave _now!_ You will never come into my room unless I've invited you in or else you'll face a wrath that you've never before seen." He released one hand from her own to instead grip the collar of her nightgown and shoved her towards the door, his glare sending a chill through her entire body. "I want you to love me, Astoria, but it is important that you respect and fear me and know to always obey my commands. So when I tell you to get out what I mean is that you will _get out!_ "

He grabbed her wand from Astoria and fired a spell at random in her direction, knocking Astoria backwards so that she fell to the floor with a heavy thud, letting out a cry of shock and surprise.

Moving to stand over her, Draco grabbed her by the wrist once more and yanked her upward, closing in on her face with a furious scowl. "Do you understand me? You will respect me, fear me, and if I tell you to do something then you will do it without ever questioning me again. I have told you time and time again that you will learn to be a proper wife and now is the day that you will discover I wasn't joking."

Scrambling to get out of his grip, Astoria rushed from the room and back to her own living quarters. She flung the door shut behind her before a wave of panic overwhelmed her, forcing her to her knees. Whatever spell he had thrown at her with her own wand was taking its toll and she buckled, burying her face in the carpet.

" _Listen to me Astoria! I am your father—your only duty is to do as I command you and will fucking_ listen _to me!" Father slammed his fist on his desk and scowled down at his young daughter. He loomed over her, an imposing and threatening figure as he stabbed a finger in her direction, continuing his rant. "You and your sister are absolutely disgraceful to the Greengrass name! I hope your mother has a boy this time around and not just so that I can finally have my heir—I don't think that I can take a fourth daughter who will only disappoint me."_

 _She let out a small sob, sinking further into the chair that Father had ordered her to not leave. They had returned from the Parkinson's house, where Pansy and Daphne had started fighting and Astoria chose to bite little Hawthorne Parkinson on the arm, which caused both her sister Serenia and Birch Parkinson to begin crying loudly. Ashamed and apologising the entire way out the door, Mother handed the girls over to their father for punishment the second they landed on the family property, telling him to do whatever he saw fit._

 _Serenia was only two and hadn't done anything wrong, which left the older Greengrass girls to face their father's rage, each one sat in one of his big velvet chairs. They only ever were in these chairs when he yelled at them._

" _I don't know why you don't know how to follow orders! How will I ever find proper husbands for either of you when you do nothing but disgrace me and the family name?" Without warning, he grabbed a paperweight of of his desk and flung it just over their heads, causing it to smash into a million pieces when it hit the fireplace mantle. "I want you to love me, for I am your father and deserve your love, but it is_ always _more important that you respect and fear me—and know to do as I command!"_

 _Still sobbing, Astoria watched as her father grabbed Daphne by the throat, lifting the seven year old into the air. Astoria jumped from the chair, grabbing at her father, begging him to let go of her sister, but he turned his cold eyes to her._

" _Didn't I tell you to stay seated? How dare you disobey me? For this, I must punish you." He dropped Daphne and pulled his wand from his pocket, turning it to face his younger daughter. "Clearly threats are no longer a viable way of keeping you in line. Therefore, you leave me no choice._ Crucio!"

 _Her screams lasted the entire time; the curse lasted maybe a minute but it felt like an eternity, her short life flashing before her as Astoria became convinced that she was dying. Then, just as suddenly, he lifted the curse and, stomping over, grabbed her by the collar and yanked her upwards, looking deeply into her frightened eyes._

" _You will tell no one of this day, neither of you. And to ensure that, I must take away the memories. Leave the pain, leave the fear, but you will not be allowed to speak against me." He waved his wand once more, causing Astoria to flinch and cry out with fear._

She curled into herself and let out a choked sob, trying to push the dark memories away as she'd been forced to do all those years ago. But this time there was no Father to erase all the bad and leave only the good like he used to; Astoria could suddenly remember everything that he'd done, all the screaming, the abuse, the rage with which he'd treated his daughters. The floodgates had opened and she spent the rest of the night having her mind overwhelmed by memories that she had repressed and stolen from her as a child.

* * *

The next morning, still laying on the carpet of her bedroom, Astoria opened her eyes to stare blankly up at the ceiling. Her hair was spread out around her head and her entire face was soaked and sweaty from crying all night long until the moment when she passed out where she'd broken down on the floor.

Where was she supposed to go from this point, with years of memories suddenly crammed back into her head? How was anyone supposed to get over the fact that their father wasn't quite the hero and great man they'd always remembered him to be?

There was a knock on her bedroom door and, without waiting for a response, Narcissa stepped into the room, looking down at the girl lying on the floor with a miserable expression on her face.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was worried I would have to wake you up myself—I used to do that with Draco but he has a tendency to flail and hit people who even dare try." She pursed her lips. "I suppose that you've already figured that out, though, given the events of last night. I do certainly hope that you weren't crying because of his immaturity."

Astoria pushed herself to a sitting position and then stood up, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "He threatened to throw something at my head and then cursed me with my own wand. I would hardly call what he did last night merely irresponsible or immature—dangerously murderous is more like it."

The Malfoy matriarch gave her a critical look before shaking her had at the younger female. "I think it may be best if you were to go back to Gresham Hill for now. I don't know for how long he'll be like this but I don't think it's fair to put you through his mood swings and violent temper in these times." She sighed, but it sounded more resigned than upset or disappointed. "Lucius taught him to be this way, no matter how I tried to push him to be different. I had hoped he might grow into an understanding and empathetic boy, but he has far too much of his father in him."

There was the sound of a door being slammed, followed by heavy footsteps down the hallway, each thud making Astoria wince internally, the onslaught of bad memories threatening to bubble again. She wanted to run away from this room, which suddenly no longer felt as large as it once had. There was too much negativity here now.

"Things were getting better between the two of us recently. I thought...I almost..." _thought he loved me_ , but even she wasn't foolish enough to actually say such a thing out loud. "We were friends, I think, or more so than I ever expected to be. I don't understand what I did wrong to make him so angry. I thought things were finally better."

Narcissa was already placing Astoria's things in a trunk, but she paused to reply, "It wasn't you. He's been having nightmares for years—Pansy Parkinson made the same mistake, thinking she could fix him, but I don't think my son _wants_ to be fixed. You just walked in on him at a moment of weakness and he can't stand for others to see him like that."

She turned back to Astoria's belongings and continued rifling through them, though her shoulders were a little more slumped and when a strand of hair fell from her bun and into her face, Narcissa did nothing to put it back, instead choosing to keep her face down and away from Astoria.

There was a sense that everything had changed, that some sort of boundary had been crossed and they could never take things back. Her father's anger still had a choke hold on her and Draco was the reason why. She could never look at him again and not see those dark memories that he'd forced upon her.

"He _does_ like you, you know?" Her back was still pointed towards Astoria, who watched the older woman pack up her entire life. "If he didn't, he'd had come to me already, begging for me to find a way to break off the engagement. But I'm not sure what you ought to do from here. Lucius and I were married when I was only a little older than you are now and we hardly saw each other in the months between my graduating and the wedding." She seemed to almost shiver. "There's something wrong about him. I know I shouldn't say that sort of thing about my only child, but it's true. He's no longer my little boy, there's something off about him. But I still love him—you shouldn't let his problems stop you from loving him, either."

There was nothing Astoria could think of to say in response so she instead let her arms drop to her sides, wishing Mrs Malfoy would just leave; she wanted to finish packing the rest of her belongings in peace and head out without anyone bothering her.

Though, to be entirely honest, it seemed rather unfair to be kicked out just because Draco threw a fit, but she also didn't really feel comfortable at the Malfoy Manor any more, not that she ever really had. The air was different now, though, making the whole place feel unwelcoming.

A thought flashed in her head from out of nowhere—the woman from her father's funeral, the little boy with her. Astoria shook her head, unsure why those two strangers suddenly popped up in her head, but something told her they weren't totally strangers to her, to her family. She couldn't explain it, but a suspicious urge ran through her body. She pushed it away, though, knowing there was nothing that could be done right then.

"I can write your mother as well, if you'd like, to explain things to her if you would rather not do it yourself." Narcissa straightened up and fixed her hair once more, having finished setting everything into the trunk.

"Oh, er, no thanks, she'll just spend the whole time telling me how disappointed she is and fretting that Draco will somehow try to get out of marrying me—or worse, what her friends will think of us now." Astoria hesitated. "How long do you think it will be until I can return?"  
The look on Narcissa's face was one of sad contemplation as though she knew something Astoria didn't. "I don't know, dear. I don't think it will be terribly long, but...here, for your troubles." She dropped a bag on the top of Astoria's trunk and it jingled noisily. "Don't think I'm trying to pay you off or anything. If you wish to run to the papers to defame my family, feel free to do so. But I don't think it's fair to leave you without even a Knut to your name, just in case."

Wordlessly, Astoria picked up the bag and waved her wand to allow the trunk to float after her as she walked out of the room and out of the Malfoy Manor, possibly for good. She knew exactly where she was going for the time being and it certainly wasn't back home, back to a place that was not the happy, loving home that she'd once thought it to be.

No, now was the time for Astoria to figure things out for herself, figure out what all of this meant and what it meant about who she was. And that wasn't something she could do at home; if her father had truly done all those terrible things and then erased the memories from her head, then Mother had to know something about. Yet she had never bothered to tell Astoria, not even in the year that had passed since his death. Her mother would not give her the answers she sought, so going home would get her nowhere.

Astoria was all alone on this one. She was completely and totally alone.


	33. What Astoria Uncovers

The woman from her father's funeral was named Yavannah Rowle; she had four children, the oldest a boy of ten years, likely the one she'd seen holding his mother's hand and shyly watching all the activity around him. Apparently, she had two kids by a man named Ploutos Flint—interestingly enough also listed as one of the many former husbands of Parthenope Dagworth who had met with an unfortunate and early demise. Her other two children were listed as having unknown fathers but looking at a photograph of the little boy, Astoria knew _who_ his father was.

He looked like her brothers Charles and Octavius if they had darker skin, with the same long face and nose and a set of ears that were just a tad too big for his head. This boy was her brother. Her father had cheated on her mother with this woman. It was just one more dark secret that had been kept from her to make Astoria believe her father was a great man.

She threw the parchments across the room, watching it flutter pathetically to the floor all around her. Astoria couldn't take it any more, all these lies. She'd been living at the Leaky Cauldron for nearly a month and gone through most of her money by staying here and trying to find out information about her father and what he'd done; it was the only thing she could do to keep her mind off of Draco.

There had been no letters, no sign that he intended on ever speaking to her again, but he kept trying to put that concern away, knowing that there was nothing that could be done to change things. When he wanted to fix their relationship Draco would go to whatever lengths he saw fit to do so and there was no point in trying to push the issue.

Instead of continuing to sulk in her room, she decided to go downstairs to the pub and possibly grab something to eat and drink. The Leaky Cauldron was currently run by the ageing Thomas Boot, with two girls helping to fulfil the jobs he no longer could—his great-nieces, Hannah Abbott and Adira Boot, despite the latter being a full year younger than Astoria.

They were both kind enough to Astoria and sometimes Hannah's husband, Neville Longbottom, would stop by while dinner was being served and talk to Astoria for a few minutes.

Today, however, Adira was in a bad mood, slamming down Astoria's sandwich and Butterbeer with a scowl on her face, grumbling under her breath the entire time. She shook her head and swore loudly upon dropping the bowl for her soup, the hot liquid splashing against the teen's legs and dripping all over the floor.

"Hey, Hannah, can you make another cream of mushroom soup?" She bent down to scoop up the broken bowl, setting it on the counter before pulling out her wand and waving it at the pieces. They gave a feeble shake but did not fly back together as they should; Adira merely sighed. "Sorry about this, I'm still struggling with all of this and people like _her_ only make things that much worse. I can't believe we have to serve those sorts of people."

"What kind of people?" She looked at the younger girl curiously; over the last few weeks, Astoria had grown to know Adira fairly well and she'd never seen the former Hufflepuff angry before. It was rather alarming to see.

"Death Eaters! Look at her, just sitting there like she's innocent, like she didn't help to kill people!" Adira's voice rose in pitch, like the very existence of this woman made her physically ill and the only way to convey her problem was to choke the words out.

Turning in the direction that Adira was pointing revealed that Pansy Parkinson was sitting quietly at one of the tables; though the Leaky Cauldron was in the middle of the supper rush, she was all alone, just her and her belongings, looking straight at the book she was reading and ignoring all the wary and dirty looks she was getting from the other patrons.

Facing Adira again, a small voice inside of her suddenly began calling for her to go sit with Pansy. She tried to ignore the voice but it only grew louder until she couldn't block it out any longer and was forced from her seat.

"Excuse me," she mumbled as Hannah came by with her soup. Astoria waved her wand at the food, letting it float at just below shoulder height. "I think I'm going to sit at one of the centre tables today." Her meal following after her, she walked over to where Pansy was sitting, letting her meal settle on the table while she pulled out a chair for herself.

Pansy looked up at the other female with a rather baffled expression, following her every movement as Astoria casually took a bite of her sandwich. "What in the name of Salazar Slytherin are you doing here, Greengrass? I thought you were too busy following Draco everywhere he goes. Or did he break off your betrothal, too?"

Very deliberately, Astoria pulled her engagement ring out from underneath her shirt and fiddled with the chain, maintaining eye contact with the older woman. No matter what Pansy said, Astoria had the higher ground and she would not be belittled.

"I'm going to tell you something, Parkinson, and you're not going to say a thing until I'm done, do you understand? What I have to say is important and I don't want you talking over me the entire time. Not to mention that your voice is particularly grating."

The annoyed look on Pansy's face conveyed her contempt for being ordered around by someone she perceived as being beneath her, but she remained silent, crossing her arms and staring at Astoria, waiting for her grand announcement so that she could judge the other girl.

"When you told me that you loved my sister, I was shocked. After all, I could never imagine that someone who was so cruel and hateful could be masking any sort of affection. But, see, the thing is, you weren't— _aren't—_ the only one hiding feelings for someone else. I...er...I like you, too, in much the same way that you liked my sister. And I promise that I'm not drunk or messing with you, what I'm saying is entirely my real feelings. It isn't love, necessarily, but it's something and it's real. That's what I came here to say."

A long moment of silence passed as the glare on Pansy's face diminished as she processed what Astoria had said, what that meant for her, for them. And then she did something totally irrational, something that she shouldn't have, but the urge was too strong for her to resist and at that moment she wasn't thinking about weighing the pros and cons of her actions.

She pushed herself across the table and kissed Astoria full on the mouth, eyes closed because if the other girl was shocked or horrified, Pansy didn't want to see it. Daphne's face swam to the forefront of her mind but was just as quickly pushed down deep. Astoria wasn't Daphne. She'd made a mistake with Daphne but she wouldn't do the same this time.

There was a loud crashing noise and the two girls were pulled apart as Adira began berating Pansy, accusing her of attacking Astoria. Several onlookers shot her hateful looked but when she glanced at Astoria herself, there was a small smile on her face. They had both enjoyed the kiss, both felt that irresistible pull to be together.

As people began to yell in Pansy's direction, she reached out to take Astoria's hand and Apparated away to the room that Pansy was currently staying in for the night. She let go of Astoria, who settled on the bed and chuckled at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. She wished, upon waking up this morning, that she'd known today would involve kissing her sister's biggest bully in front of a room full of people.

"Well, wasn't that exciting?" Pansy asked breathlessly, letting out a chuckle that was quite unlike her. "Who knew one could have in such a dull place as this?"

Their laughter died down and they were left to look at each other in silence, wondering what the other was thinking. Astoria had never kissed anyone on the lips, least of all another female, pretending to not be interested when her dorm mates joked about practising on one another to prepare for their future husbands. Pansy, on the other hand, had learnt quite a bit about herself since Draco broke off their betrothal and when she wanted to be with someone, she no longer denied herself the pleasure. In the dark and in the throes of passion, it was all the same—no matter their gender, no matter their blood purity.

"What was her name?" At Pansy's puzzled expression, Astoria gave a small shrug and clarified, "The first girl or woman or whatever that you kissed. What was her name?"

"Ah...the first one? I don't know—I was somewhat intoxicated, she was a muggle, and at the moment I didn't care about anything except getting her to like me because I thought she was the prettiest person I had ever seen. But the first one whose name I can tell you with certainty is Bhavana Patel; she's a Hufflepuff in your year and desperate to figure things out. Thankfully I was there to show her the way. I was fourteen, she was twelve."

"Do you usually get drunk and sleep with someone without learning their name? Because I can assure you that I don't work that way."

Pansy laughed, shaking her head. "But I already _know_ your name. Besides, I've already stolen your first kiss and I'm pretty sure that Draco would kill me if I took anything else. Send me an owl after you've lost your virginity to your husband and then we'll see how drunk I'll need the two of us to get to coax you into my bed."  
Astoria rolled her eyes, shifting positions on the bed so that she was on her back, staring at the off-white and speckled ceiling, wondering if life would be better for her if she just stayed here with Pansy forever. Being with her sister's bully was better than waiting in her room all day in the hopes that Draco would one day come back to get her.

As though having read her mind, Pansy suddenly narrowed her eyes and gave Astoria a critical look. "So why _are_ you here? The whole thing about Draco breaking things off was a joke but something tells me that I'm not exactly far from the truth."

"We...it was stupid, you know, Draco being his usual self and pushing away everyone who tried to care about him. I...walked in on him during a vulnerable moment and he became angry, throwing me out of his room, of his house. Mrs Malfoy appears to have agreed with him, considering how quick she was to pack my things and shove me out the door."

"And? I've practically made it my job to figure out when someone is lying or keeping something from me and you aren't the convincing actress. There's something more going on here than just Draco being an arse."

"For...for my whole life, actually, I thought my father was this amazing, wonderful person who could do no wrong, unlike all the stories of other Pureblood fathers I grew up hearing about. But that night, Draco grabbed my wand and shot a spell at my head and suddenly I have all these memories of him doing and saying terrible things to Daphne and me. He—he cheated on my mother with another woman and had at least one child with her, possibly two. I don't know what Draco did to me, but I hate having these memories, having who I thought my father was suddenly tarnished and taken away from me without my consent."

The other girl nodded as though she'd expected nothing less and sat down on the bed next to Astoria. "For years, I tried to convince myself that my mother wasn't a bad person, that deep down she truly did love her children. But then I saw her by our family's pond with my brother, Birch. I saw her push him in—he was eight and not the strongest of swimmers. I told myself time and time again that I must have just been imagining things, but I know that it's true, she killed my brothers, both of them. She would have probably killed me, too, except that much of my early childhood was spent with my grandparents and then I went to Hogwarts. But I can see how something of this nature can be fairly traumatising. I mean, having to go through it once is bad enough, but then to foist it upon you a second time is just cruel."

Just then there was a knock on the door, making them both jump, having entirely forgotten that the outside world even existed. They shared a glance, debating whether they should open the door when there was another loud bang on the door.

Pansy got to her feet and unlocked the door, revealing Draco Malfoy on the other side, a sheepish look on his face as he took in the sight of his current and ex-fiancée both in the same room, the two watching him coldly.

"I've come back for Astoria," he explained to the women. "It's time she returned home and I came here to apologise for my immaturity concerning her actions towards me." He looked over to her coaxingly, though she noted that he had not actually apologised. "Are you ready to come home with me, dear?" The word was forced out and he grimaced at the term of endearment.

"Astoria, don't go with him. I already made the mistakes you did, thinking he loves you, thinking he cares for you, but it's all an act. He doesn't give a shit about you beyond what you can do to benefit him. He doesn't love you, not in the way that I could love you. Don't make that mistake, not when you're so much better than him."

Looking at Pansy and Draco, back and forth, Astoria nodded solemnly. She knew what the right choice was to make here, the smart choice. It wasn't the easiest or wisest thing to do but it was what had to be done, no matter how she felt inside.

She took his hand and allowed Draco to lead her from the room, leaving Pansy behind. The door shut and they departed. The worst part was that Pansy couldn't even blame her; if given the same choice, she, too, would have picked Draco every single time, no matter what she tried to tell herself, no matter how she warned Astoria.

That didn't make their parting hurt any less.


	34. No More Weddings

Obviously, he was sick of weddings but Astoria had begged and pleaded with until he finally gave in, accepting that the bride to be was her favourite and most dear cousin. Besides, they were still recovering as a couple from Astoria's return just over two months ago and in many ways, Draco felt it was somehow his responsibility to make things up to her; it was a baffling notion, of course, since he hadn't done anything wrong but he knew how to play the game long enough to win back her affections. If that meant going to yet another wedding, he would take a deep breath, shut his mouth, and pretend like he was happy to be there.

Therefore it was to no one's surprise that Draco and Astoria found themselves at the reception dinner, watching Roselle Runcorn dance with Cornelius Burke. Astoria was picking at her food with a moody expression on her face while Draco took a glance around the room to see if he recognised any of the other guests, having not been paying much attention during the ceremony proper.

There was his half-sister, recently married to one of Roselle's brothers; Blaise, who was Cornelius' maternal cousin; Pansy Parkinson was also here for seemingly no reason, considering he couldn't think of a way that she would be connected to either the Runcorns or the Burkes. But, hell, maybe he was overlooking some distant relative or perhaps she was just looking for some free booze. Either way, he would do his damnedest to keep her away from Astoria.

He downed his drink in a single gulp, watching it fill with champagne once more the second he placed the flute back onto the table.

At their own table, the just barely noticeably pregnant Tracey was struggling to get her husband's attention but he was too busy getting to know his third glass of Firewhisky, chuckling about nothing and to no one.

"So Malfoy, do you always allow your bird to wear such skimpy dresses? I mean, look a' those shoulders and that collarbone—you're prac'lly a little whore, aren' you, Mrs Malfoy?" He laughed and they could smell the alcohol on his breath even from the other side of the table. "Oh, wait, I forgot that you aren't a real Malfoy yet because you both keep refusing to get married. Y'know, I don't think you ever will. I think Draco's jus' waitin' un'il you get too old and then he'll jus' replace you with someone younger and pre'ier." His words became almost unintelligible as he slurred, but the message behind was very clear.

Draco shot the other man a nasty glare; he didn't care how much of a lightweight Blaise was, he was not afraid to punch his friend if the man didn't learn to shut his mouth. Draco was tired of the two years of jokes wondering when the wedding day would be, nor did he care for the theories and implications that there never would be one.

"Blaise, don't you think you've had enough to drink—" Tracey was cut off by her husband suddenly lunging in Astoria's direction, drunkenly placing a slobbery kiss on her mouth and practically sending the two crashing to the ground as the sudden shift in weight overtook the two and they tipped over.

Tracey screamed and Draco jumped clumsily to his feet, pulling the two apart before whirling to face his fiancée, a massive scowl on his face. She took a swipe at her mouth with the sleeve of her robe before noticing the near murderous expression he wore.

"What?" The word was practically snapped at him, causing Draco to bristle at her forwardness and audacity. After all, they _were_ in public.

He leant in, seizing her by the arm as he grumbled, "Why did you not push him off you? Or, don't tell me, you're just as much a whore as your sister was." His head pounded from the adrenaline of the moment but also from the several flutes of Firewhisky and champagne he'd already had. Blaise was not the only one struggling with sobriety that night.

"Excuse me? I was attacked by _your_ friend and the first thing you do is accuse _me_ of not acting quickly enough? What, do you think I like being assaulted by drunken idiots—that I enjoy being kissed by a man that I hardly know, a man that isn't my fiance and that I absolutely do not like? How _dare_ you!"

There was a slight waver to Draco as he glared down at his fiancée. Normally he didn't get drunk so easily but the champagne that was being served was much stronger than he used to. At least, that was what he told himself as all thought of their already fragile relationship out the window in favour of jabbing a finger in Astoria's direction. "You liked kissing him, I can see it on your face, you _wanted_ him to kiss you. Just like with Pansy, you think I don't know what you two did? You thought it wasn't obvious? Does everyone else in the world get to kiss you except for me, is that what this is?"

"You're drunk." She actually did spit the words at him this time, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're drunk and rambling and making things up in your head out of paranoia. How on earth is anyone meant to have a proper conversation with you in this state—you _or_ Mr Zabini, both saying things you don't really mean?"

He scowled at his fiancée for a long second, knowing she was right and that he wasn't sober enough to be having this conversation, but he also didn't care how Astoria felt. This was all her fault anyway because she had that bloody illness and a restrictive mother. But he kept glaring at her, struggling to stay upright as the alcohol truly finished settling into his system.

Storming away, Draco practically threw himself down in front of the open bar, demanding that the bartender keep a drink in front of him at all times. It didn't matter to him that alcohol was what started their fight in the first place, he was too focused on his frustration of the whole situation and his desire to get away from the petulant child he'd been tied to.

Some time between his third and fourth drink, a woman with long brown hair sat down on the stool next to him, also ordering a Firewhisky before turning her attention to Draco. In his drunken haze, he struggled to focus on the woman's face, convinced she looked familiar even though she swam in front of him and he couldn't quite make her features out enough to determine if he truly knew her or if he was being paranoid.

"You've had quite a bit tonight, haven't you?" she asked, briefly thanking the bartender when he handed them their drinks. "Is there an issue with the bride or groom? Or perhaps with your own date? I find it most often to be a pretty girl that leads a man to drink."

In retrospect, he should have told her that he was engaged, that he had a date, that he wasn't interested in her even if he did find her blurry form to be very attractive.

Instead, he leant in and told the stranger, "Oh no, I came alone. I'm a—a friend of the groom but I had no date to bring, no bird or anything to hold on my arm. Why—why're you here, though? Where's _your_ date?"

She shrugged as though the idea of attending a wedding with a date or escort of some kind had never occurred to her. He admired her casual attitude. "I'm unattached for the time being if you must know. I was invited as a distant cousin to the mother of the bride— _very_ distant if I'm being honest. There was no real reason for my being here but I do like to dress up and I certainly do enjoy the free alcohol they always have at these sorts of things."

They kept chatting and he found her to be witty, charming, clever, and everything he'd ever wanted. This woman was so unlike Astoria in that she knew when to back off and let him take charge of the conversation but she also knew when it was best to push him with questions or well-timed laughter. She touched his shoulder and he felt a spark between the two of them, the same sort of spark he always felt when Violet touched him. _Oh how he missed her touch._ In that moment, Draco made a very foolish decision.

"I could get us a room somewhere if you'd like to spend the night together." He tried to sound charming and engaging and based on the way she smirked at him in response, he must have done _something_ right.

Taking him by the hand, she led him away from the rest of the wedding party, laughing as the unsteady Draco stumbled drunkenly after her. The cool air hit them the second they left the tent and she paused briefly to take in the crisp freshness, turning her head up towards the full moon that watched over the couple. He looked at her and once more saw his beloved Violet Runcorn, saw that familiar gleam in her eyes; but then the moment ended as he tripped, only avoiding hitting the ground when his companion grabbed him around the waist.

"How about this—I have a flat in London that we could go to. It's not the best place and the whole building is crawling with Muggles but it's free and I can Apparate you there since you're unable to do so yourself."

He squinted at her. "How'd you know that I can't Apparate on my own? Do I know you or somethin'?" His tone was suspicious but his words were undermined by how sloppily he threw them out, too drunk to enunciate. He sounded like Blaise.

"Well you're clearly too drunk to walk or talk properly, I certainly don't trust you enough to be able to Apparate without splinching yourself like a ninny. I bet you can barely even see me right now, can you? Do you usually drink this much?"

Grumbling, he grabbed her arm, allowing the woman to Apparate them to her flat. It briefly occurred to him that she seemed suspiciously coherent and sober for someone he had seen down three glasses of Firewhisky in the span of twenty minutes. But then they were spinning and all Draco could focus on was keeping the contents of his stomach from coming up all over the outside of this woman's home.

"Do you normally drunkenly invite people over to your place for casual sex?" His retort might have sounded almost clever if he hadn't followed it up by walking into the wall, squashing his nose painfully and letting out a pathetic grunt.

"Funny, I was asked something rather similar to that not terribly long ago. But if you're worried about something going wrong, you're always free to leave and I can just find someone else to spend the night with. Though you don't strike me as the sort of person who's going to be dissuaded from a good time just because you've had a little too much to drink."

One eyebrow raised, she placed her hands on his upper arms and directed him towards her bedroom, helping to keep Draco fairly steady on his feet as they moved through the small, shabby flat. The odd feeling of knowing this woman only grew but the buzzing in his brain was more focusing of a good lay than solving a mystery.

The duo stumbled into the bedroom and she turned away, dropping her dress robed to the floor while Draco fumbled with the belt on his pants, wishing he were sobering enough to be able to see what he was doing. She chuckled upon noticing his struggle, guiding his hands to the clasp and helping him to undo it before tugging his shirt off as well.

Brown hair filled his vision as she took his hand and led him to the bed, the two of them falling together; she took a moment to flick her wand to turn off the lights before kissing him deeply on the lips, chuckling as they made contact.

* * *

The next morning found Draco stumbling from a room he didn't recognise, the girl he'd presumably shagged last night still in a deep sleep with her pillow placed over her face in such a way that he couldn't be bothered to tug it off enough to see who she was.

Instead, he found his clothes and wandered around the tiny flat, struggling into his trousers, an activity made that much harder by the intense pounding in his head and a sick churning in his stomach. How much had he drunk last night? Clearly quite a bit, considering he knew enough to be able to say with certainty that the woman in the bed was not his fiancée and this dingy hovel was not the Malfoy Manor.

His fiancée—Astoria. Draco ran his hands over his face and groaned, wondering if the girl had waited all night for him to return before eventually giving up and returning to the manor. No doubt she would be gloomy and bitchy when he went home, something he didn't feel up to dealing with at the moment.

He glanced at the fireplace, noticing a small bag of Floo powder, which allowed Draco to sigh in relief somewhat, glad that he at least had not made the grave mistake of falling into a bed with some Muggle woman, dreaming up all images of magic in a drunken haze the night before.

Taking up a handful of Floo powder, he tossed it into the fireplace, calling out the name of his home and stepped into the flames, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach _inside_ as he spun wildly before being shot out of the main fireplace of the manor, nearly causing Draco to face plant on the carpet. A clock on the mantle informed him that it was shortly before seven in the morning, which likely meant that no one else was awake at this time.

Draco rubbed his eyes, realising that he was still exhausted from the events of last night. Perhaps later he would put some level of effort into finding out who his partner had been post-wedding but for the time being, he decided it was wisest for him to simply go back to bed.

No doubt Astoria would have some choice words for him when they next spoke, demanding to know where he'd been and with whom, but he owed her no answers and would give her none. She was only a silly girl and ought to understand that these sorts of things were normal. After all, they had discussed the matter prior to last night.

It wasn't as though _she_ was interested in him in the same way. Why shouldn't he seek out some sort of happiness wherever he could find it?

So he trudged upstairs to his room and passed out almost immediately in his bed, staying in a deep slumber until a house elf came to tell him that tea had been set out and his mother was expecting his presence. He didn't realise it at the time, but Draco had no dreams at all the entire time—nightmare or otherwise.


	35. Confrontations and Disaster

He went through the most recent figures on what the various Malfoy properties had brought in as profit since the beginning of the year. He hated going through the ledgers more than any other job required of him, mostly due to the fact that he'd never had much of a head for maths and figures nor did he enjoy spending hours at a time searching for inconsistencies in the numbers or any other sort of sign that one of the businesses wasn't doing as well as they'd expected to.

There was a soft knock on the door and, without bothering to look up, he called out, "Come in," expecting to see one of the elves or his mother come to check on him and make sure that he wasn't working himself to death inside of his father's office.

Instead, it was his fiancée who stood in the doorway, a pensive expression on her face as she watched him working for several long seconds before clearing her throat to get Draco's attention, as though he didn't know it was her from the smell of her perfume. _She wore Pansy's perfume these days. Was it to drive him mad?_

"What do you want, Astoria? I'm very busy so if you could make whatever it is you have to say go as quickly as possible, I would greatly appreciate that. I don't have the time for you to hem and haw over your words when I still have a mountain of paperwork to get through." He waved his hand at the chair in front of the desk. "Whatever you have to say, go ahead and say it or else I'll kick you out and we'll both be cross."

She settled in the chair and fidgeted, twiddling her thumbs as she struggled to dredge up the courage to speak her mind; it had taken quite a bit out of her just to knock on the door. "I was hoping you would spare me the shame and indignity of having to ask this question by just being upfront with me, but it's been four days and you've not said a thing so I have been left with no choice but to ask. You left the reception early with someone else, plenty of people have told me they saw you leave with some other girl and I just want you to be honest with me. Did you sleep with her? Did you bring her into your bed or join hers?"

Sighing, Draco set down the paperwork on his desk and focused his gaze on Astoria, critical and calculating. "We agreed upon this already, Astoria, quite a long time ago if I recall. You know this sort of thing is to be accepted, expected, and tolerated. I don't see the point in your making a fuss now as though you never thought it would happen."

"Did you sleep with her? Just tell me—I don't even care that you did it, really. it's that you were so public and bold about the whole thing. That sort of attitude towards the matter, before we're even married, is more than embarrassing, it's horrifyingly mortifying to have everyone see you gallivanting around with someone else. They think there's something wrong with me and that's why we haven't wed yet, then to see you run off with some other girl only confirms that belief."

"Like how you snogged Panny in front of an entire room of people before disappearing with that wretched woman?" He cringed immediately at his own use of the affection term, remembering all the times he used to call her that, many of them happier times than now.

Astoria raised her eyebrows at the nickname. "'Panny'?" she repeated, mildly amused. "Let me guess, you'll be calling me Tori to all your old mates when you decide to go drinking in the back garden, talking about what a great sex life we have? I didn't peg you as the sort to engage in the use of nicknames or any terms of endearment, really."

He rolled his eyes but refused to snap back at her, instead choosing to calmly reply, "You shouldn't be sneaking around with other people, especially after telling me _to my face_ that you didn't partake in that sort of behaviour. What happened to you not being at all like Pansy Parkinson? Whatever happened to that bold declaration?"

"Am I not allowed to tell a little white lie, then?" She shook her head and ran her fingers over the ornate arms of the chair. "If you're going to take girls to bed, just do your best to not make it so obvious. I don't want to have to ask this of you again."

 _She can be bold when she chooses._ Normally a tongue on a woman would frustrate him, but hearing those words come from Astoria... _well there's a reason I chose her, I suppose._

The paperwork on his desk fluttered and he got to his feet, shutting the office window, which he had not recalled ever opening in the first place. He didn't want to look at Astoria, still seeing an image of her kissing his ex-fiancée every single time that he looked at her.

"I suppose I don't handle my alcohol as well as I'd like to pretend that I do. I hadn't really intended to walk off with someone else, it just sort of happened and I couldn't think of a reason to stay any longer." It was the closest that Draco would ever come to an apology and Astoria nodded in reply, grateful to take whatever she could get at this point.

Fiddling with the end of her chair's arm, she pressed her lips together, forming a thin, tight line. "After you left, I spent some time talking to Tracey and it got me thinking about how much I hate not being married. Out of all my house mates, I'm the only one not yet married and it pains me to think that we might end up like my sister—what if one of us dies, what is the other left to do? I think we should just get it done."

"Well that's not really up to me, I thought you knew that. Your mother and my uncle, they're the ones who decide if and when we're to marry. I have no say in the matter unless my uncle were to die suddenly. That would leave his son in charge and the boy's only fifteen and quite easy to manipulate. He likes me well enough already."

"Hm." Astoria made a face like she was seriously taking out the older Malfoy just for the opportunity to see herself walking down the aisle towards Draco.

He started to look back at his paperwork, expecting that Astoria was going to head out of his office. When he didn't hear the sounds that ought to accompany her getting up, he lifted his head and saw that she now wore a dazed expression in her eyes and seemed to sway back and forth just a tiny bit even sitting in her chair.

"Are you okay, Astoria?" When he got no response, Draco leapt to his feet and came around the other side of the desk to place a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you've not had any alcohol yourself recently, right? You look completely out of it right now. Astoria?" As a last ditch effort, through clenched teeth, he practically yelled into her ear, "Tori?! Hello?"

His fiancée leant forward and suddenly collapsed, falling out of the chair and into his arms, letting out a breathy gasp, her eyes fluttering before shutting altogether. He shook her but upon receiving no response, Draco gently set the girl on the settee and stepped outside to fetch a house elf.

* * *

He nervously watched the Healer place the back of his hand on Astoria's head and waited for some sort of sign that anything had changed, even though a potion the colour of milk already confirmed that this was not the case. She had been unconscious for a full week at this point and Draco was now more than tad worried that his fiancée would never open her eyes again. It wasn't just that he'd have to seek out a new bride—although that was also a big part of the matter. He had grown used to his little companion like she was the sister he might have in a different life. She was still daft, still too mouthy for her own good, but it truly was difficult to imagine a life without her.

"Well?" He asked the second the Healer straightened his back. "Was the potion wrong? Is she going to wake up? Is there any change at all?"

The man shook his head, making Draco tighten his hands into fists and strongly consider punching a hole in the nearest wall. "I am afraid that doesn't seem to be the case, no. I'm terribly sorry, Mr Malfoy, but it may be time that you consider alternatives, as this current treatment doesn't appear to be doing much. Now I know that your wife has a serious genetic condition that has left her in this situation before but each occurrence only makes her weaker and that much more prone to illness. Obviously no one wants to lose a girl so young and my personal recommendation would honestly be to move her directly to St Mungo's so that she can have full time care. House elves and my visits once a day will only do so much."

"No." He glared sharply at the Healer, wanting to scream. "I won't let her be moved, that is absolutely not going to happen. She is my responsibility and I insist she stay here so I can make sure that nothing happens to her or that her condition worsens while I'm not around."

The man pursed his lips before nodding solemnly and moving away from the bed to pull out several bottles of potions from his bag, setting them on the bedside table and explaining each one's purpose and when to give them to Astoria. The table, already crowded from a week's worth of attempted cures, was now overflowing to the point where Draco was afraid it would collapse from the weight of it all.

"Now Mr Malfoy, I hope you understand that you only have me on retainer for another week and then I will need to return to St Mungo's full time." He held up a hand to stop Draco from saying anything. "Yes, I'm aware that you could increase my pay in order to keep me on but I genuinely don't see the point in it. I have given all the advice that I can and at this point there is no reason to my still being here. Either she will wake up or you will come to your senses and have her moved to St Mungo's where I and my colleagues can give her more thorough treatment."

Scowling, Draco called a house elf to escort the Healer from Malfoy Manor before turning back to adjust Astoria's bedsheets and her hair, grumbling under his breath the entire time.

What if she didn't wake up? If Astoria was stuck in a coma, would that be grounds to nullify their engagement and seek out a new wife? But there was a large part of him that was reluctant to set her aside no matter the reason. He truly did hold a level of affection for the girl, as daft and naive as she could often time be.

"Draco, dear?"

He jumped and looked up to find his mother looking at him from the doorway. How long had he just been standing over Astoria, frozen in place as he pondered over what to do?

"I...was thinking that perhaps that man is right. What little medical knowledge I have is severely outdated and the house elves aren't trained to look after her full time. She needs to be under the supervision of people who know what they're doing. Sophronia agrees that this is what's best for her daughter to survive. Would you at least consider the notion?"

Three years ago, his mother would have ordered him to escort Astoria's unconscious form to St Mungo's and demand that he act more like an adult. She would have stood with her spine straight and stiff and reminded Draco that he ought to respect her as his mother. Now, though, her hands and voice shook and he could see the patches where her hair was thinning from stress. When Father was sentenced to Azkaban, he took the strong, confident, and resilient Narcissa Malfoy along with him. Draco lost _both_ of his parents that day.

It hurt to see her so weak. Perhaps that was why he conceded, saying, "I will give her another week. If she has shown no signs of improvement by this time next week, we can take her to St Mungo's. Otherwise, she will stay here with me, where I can keep an eye on her."

Though his mother nodded, the expression on her face seemed to be one of pity. He despised the idea of anyone feeling pity for him, even his own mother— _especially_ his own mother in her current state, which was far more pathetic than his own. Her concern meant that she saw weakness in him, something for which she felt sorry.

Hi didn't need her—or anyone else's—pity.

The second she left the room, he placed a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled scream, giving his vacated chair a nice hard kick.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go. At twenty, he ought to be married with at least a child on the way if not already born. He was supposed to be the top of the social class, powerful and wealthy and able to command respect with just a word. Instead, his betrothed was in a coma with no wedding in sight, let alone an heir. He still had money—for the most part—but the Malfoy name meant very little both in and out of Pureblood society as he and his mother were seen as pathetic turncoats by the upper class and a disgusting Death Eaters by everyone else.

He kicked the chair again, practically hissing in Astoria's direction. "You better wake up soon, do you hear me? How am I supposed to succeed with you like this? Wake up before I change my mind and find someone else to take your spot, got it?"

Leaving her bedroom, he ordered a house elf to watch over Astoria and report to him if anything changed. Draco still had a mountain of work to get done, a situation that had only grown worse over the past week as he spent most of his time upstairs.

It was time to start considering alternatives just in case the worst were to happen. Draco needed to ensure that he was prepared for anything, even if that meant getting rid of Astoria to make way for someone new.


	36. Coming to

Eyes fluttered, heart rate sped up, and muscles began to twitch. She tried to groan but her mouth was too try to make a sound; she made to sit up but found that she didn't have the strength to even move her fingers. A bright light nearly blinded her and she feebly opened her mouth, trying to call out for someone—anyone—to make the light disappear.

"There we go, she's reacting. Pupils are dilating, the jaw is moving. What's your name? Well, Yatz, can you do me the favour of fetching some water for the young Mrs Malfoy? I'm sure she's in dire need of hydration. Yes, yes, that much is fine for now. Mrs Malfoy, can you please open your mouth just a little wider? I have a glass of water for you."

She felt something tap her lips and, almost instinctively, she let her mouth part enough that a steady stream of liquid flowed into her mouth and down her throat. Astoria choked and tried to push the cup away; apparently, the man understood what she wanted and leant away, allowing her to find air once more and breath normally.

Finally getting her eyes to fully open, she was confronted by the sight of a man she'd never seen before. He was in his forties or fifties with light brown hair speckled with grey and a neatly trimmed beard to match. His small blue eyes were full of curiosity and worry and when he opened his mouth to speak, Astoria was mesmerised by the blinding whiteness of his teeth. Had she ever seen teeth so straight and white before?  
"I'm glad to see you finally awake, Mrs Malfoy. We've all been so worried about you, particularly your husband. He's been in here almost every waking moment. In fact, he'd probably be here right now except that I prescribed him a sleeping potion to keep him from collapsing. There's been enough of that in this house already with you."

Why was he calling her Mrs Malfoy? And her _husband—_ surely he didn't mean Draco? The idea of him hovering over her in a panic seemed very out of character for the Draco Malfoy she knew. Astoria opened her mouth to tell him as much but the only sound that came out was a weak croak that didn't sound like anything remotely similar to the English language.

"Now Mrs Malfoy, don't push yourself too hard, you've been in a coma for eight days after all. Here, would you like some more water?" He held the cup up to her lips again, allowing Astoria to take another long drink. "Yatz, if you don't mind, I believe Mr Malfoy has slept long enough that it will be okay to inform him that his wife has woken up."

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw one of the house elves, presumably Yatz, scamper from the room and left her all alone with this total stranger.

"My name is Healer Kessler-Fenway, by the way. Your husband hired me after you collapsed as I'm the only one at St Mungo's at the moment who's properly trained in genetic curses like yours. We've actually met before, when I was still training under Healer Hassley, I don't know if you remember. It was the last time you were hospitalised, oh, four years ago? Of course, you were drifting in and out of consciousness the entire time, so I don't blame you if your memory of me is fuzzy."

It was true that she didn't remember this man; she barely remembered Healer Hassley either, having been either unconscious or heavily medicated the entire three months that she stayed at St Mungo's in her fourth year. It had been the most recent time her condition worsened enough to constitute her staying in hospital and be pulled out of school, her health failing worse than anything Madam Pomfrey was trained to handle.

The door opened, revealing Draco on the other side, an oddly eager expression on his face as he rushed into the bedroom. She'd never seen such a positive look in his eye, nor one so intense, not since the day he slammed her against the wall almost two years ago.

"You're awake." His mouth remained open even after the last syllable like a fish caught in a hook, forced to gape in surprise. "I'm glad to see it. Any longer and I would have to replace you." He laughed but she could hear the distinct laugh of humour in his voice.

Healer Kessler-Fenway looked between the young couple, brow furrowed. "Mr Malfoy, that's not the sort of thing one ought to joke about. Your wife could have died and in fact, she came very close to actually doing so—"

"Oh do shut up, will you? This girl isn't my wife so stop addressing her as such. Now tell me, what can we do to ensure that this—this _situation_ won't happen again? Tell me that there's some sort of potion that can at least manage her condition even if we can't outright cure it." At the Healer's frown, Draco put his hands up, eyes flashing threateningly. "It's your job to treat her, that's what I hired you for. So treat her, damn it."

"You only have me hired for six more days, Mr Malfoy," insisted Kessler-Fenway, shaking his head profusely. "Please, you must understand that I can give your...Miss Greengrass potions to ease the pain and lower her chances of infection but beyond that, we are entirely confounded by her condition. Believe me when I say that the Greengrass family has been studied before in the hopes of finding a treatment, a cure, but there is simply nothing that can be done at this current moment in time." He looked to Astoria almost pleadingly. "I hope you can both understand."

"Why did I hire you anyway? You didn't do anything to help wake her up and there's clearly nothing else you can do for us. Yatz!" He snapped his fingers at the house elf, who jumped to attention. "Please escort _Mr_ ," he sneered the title, "Kessler-Fenway off the property. I believe we have no need for his services any longer now that Astoria is awake."

The Healer protested even as he was being led from the room, insisting that there was no way to ensure that Astoria wouldn't slip right back into a coma if there wasn't a medical professional around to regularly check up on her.

The second that the door closed, Draco turned back around to face his fiancée, who remained in the bed and did her best to keep her head up so that she could maintain eye contact.

In a low, croaking tone, she said, "You know, you really didn't have to kick him out like that. He was telling the truth, there is nothing that can be done to cure me. They've tried with both Daphne and me as well as my aunt for years since we were the only ones who showed symptoms and survived for any real length of time." Astoria pressed her lips together before continuing in a whisper that was nearly a confession, "The disease kills the males in my family much faster than it does the females. They typically don't survive past a year or two upon contracting it. I've this same illness for eleven years and my aunt's suffered from it since she was seventeen."

At this point, he could barely make himself care about this most recent revelation, no matter what implications it might have for their future. That was just one more strike against their having a successful marriage and there were already far too many strikes to get riled up about one more. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily, feeling much older than twenty years.

"If there's nothing he can do then I'm certainly not going to waste time and money keeping him on staff to the end of the week. We aren't exactly as rich as we once were and I don't want to be frivolous with finances I no longer have. That man did not come cheap, after all."

"I thought all those businesses your family owned were still doing well." Not that she really cared about how much money they had, but she recalled the letters from Draco that she never responded to during sixth year, full of claims that his family's fortunes were more than repaired less than a year after the war had ended, almost as if they'd never paid recompenses at all.

"That was eighteen months ago, this is now. We've lost four more companies and I was pushed from the majority of another two, most of which were quite high losses for our family." He scowled and looked down at his hands, and in that moment, Astoria didn't see the man that verbally abused all that he knew and stormed around like he owned the planet. He was just a little boy afraid—terrified, even—of disappointing his father, of having to face failure.

Knowing when to drop a conversation, she nodded her head in the direction of her empty glass of water. "Can I have some more, please?" Astoria watched closely as he walked over to the bathroom to fill the cup. Almost before she was able to catch herself, she opened her mouth to ask why he didn't just cast _Aguamenti_ before remembering that it would be another seven months before Draco was allowed to do magic again.

Mentally, she crossed that off the list of things they were allowed to talk to each other about; every day the list seemed to shrink.

Draco sat down in the chair next to her, handing Astoria her water and watching her gulp down the entire thing in only a few seconds. Her throat was dry and it felt like something was crawling around inside. There was very little strength in her body, barely enough to keep the glass from slipping out of her hand and falling to the floor.

"I'm going to talk to your mother soon and see if I can get her to change her mind to finally, actually give us a date for a wedding. I'm tired of hearing the jokes, the comments, and side glances any time it gets brought up. It's absolute shite that she thinks she has any right to ruin my life any further just because she disagrees with our betrothal. If she has a problem with it, she ought to have said something when I first approached your father."

Astoria glanced out the window where Healer Kessler-Fenway had just appeared on the edges of the grounds, where he paused for a moment and looked upwards as though searching for her room. She felt a deep longing to jump from the bed and wave until he came back to get her from Malfoy Manor. She'd had the chance to leave forever when Pansy confessed her love and like a fool, she chose to walk back to Draco the second he came calling.

As though struck by a sudden thought, her fiance jumped to his feet, glancing down at Astoria, his grey eyes dark and menacing. She shrunk back, waiting for him to scream or hit her, not knowing why she felt so threatened or why he appeared so dangerous all of a sudden.

"Do you love me, Astoria?" he demanded of her, his gaze seemingly trying to drill holes right through her. "You still flinch when I move near you and you keep secrets from me all the time, the sort of secrets you shouldn't hide from a man who will be your husband, particularly one as skilled at Legilimency as I am. So let me ask again, _do you love me_?"

She couldn't look him in the eyes, which was all he needed to slam his fist down on the overfilled side table, sending several bottles tumbling to the carpet. Draco scowled when he noticed the way she shrank further away, a wave of fear rippling across her face, making it that much more obvious how she felt about him.

"I don't know what you want from me, Astoria! I've done all that I can think of to repair things since you came back and even before that. What happened at your cousin's wedding was obviously a mistake and we both understand that I was drunk, right? I do what I know to do, I do my best to care quite a lot about you, but nothing ever seems to get better. Tell me what it is that you want of me so that I never have to see you look at me like you are right now. I want you to like me. I want you to _love_ me, Astoria, is that honestly too much to ask for?"

"Could you honestly say that you love me?" she fired back, pushing herself higher up in the bed and finding it difficult to breathe just from this simple action. "You don't kiss me on the cheek or treat me with any real affection when we're in private. Maybe you should figure out how you feel about _me_ before you start demanding I change myself."

There was a long since between the two before Draco loudly clapped his hands and placed a heavy hand on her bed, almost looming over him. There seemed to be a strange emptiness in his eyes that did absolutely nothing to endear him to her.

"This changes absolutely nothing, _dearest_. I will still be writing to your mother in an attempt to change her mind. Hopefully, by the time we actually are allowed to wed, you will have changed your mind about how you feel. I would like it if you weren't one of those brides who take their own life the night of the wedding. If I am to bury you, it will be because of your illness, not because you hate the idea of being married to me so much you chose to end your own life instead of being tied to me."

"Well I'm happy to hear I at least don't have to worry about you murdering me in my sleep, then!" she snapped at him.

"I should have let you die instead of calling that Healer. Better yet, I should have started digging your grave the moment you collapsed. You know why I didn't? Why I put my all into allowing you to live, Astoria? Because _I_ actually give a _damn_ about this relationship! Do you?!"

Then, without giving her a chance to respond, he turned away and swept out of the room, leaving Astoria to stare after him and ponder the question he had posed.

 _Did_ she like him? Or were any feelings of affection born from a sense of obligation on the basis that he would one day be her husband and she had no choice in the matter?

Why was it that she couldn't shake the feeling that there was just something wrong with Draco, that he couldn't be trusted or loved? Certainly, he wasn't the evil, heartless man she once suspected him of being but he also wasn't exactly the epitome of what a young romantic girl imagined their future spouse to be.

But hopefully his words would come true and she could find it within herself to love him— _prior_ to the wedding day. She truly did want to love him and care for him like a proper wife should, just as she wanted him to feel the same way about her. Maybe one day that hope could become a reality but right now, it was just the fantasy of a girl who didn't understand how the real world worked and who didn't understand that not every end of a story closed with ' _and they all lived happily ever after_ '.

That was an Astoria long dead, one that still had a father and a sister and thought the hardest thing in her life would only ever be deciding what ribbons to wear in her hair. That Astoria was too innocent for this world she now occupied. _That_ was the Astoria that could ever love Draco—and he had killed her the second they met.


	37. How Low We're Willing to Go

A little less than a month later, Astoria was still recovering and was mostly resigned to her bed, leaving Draco largely to himself as he struggled to keep up with the amount of work required of him. Yet another large company dropped the Malfoy family from their board and though he picked up two smaller ones, it didn't make up for the sudden blow to their finances, forcing him to sell off a summer house in northern France to keep up with the debt his family was accumulating.

It was on one of these long, arduous work days that Missy, the senior most house elf and his favourite, knocked on his door and told Draco that a Mrs Rachel Warrington was asking to speak to him. Though he didn't recognise the name, he remembered Cassius Warrington from Hogwarts and assumed this was some relative of his.

'Mrs Warrington' turned out to be the incredibly peculiar Rachel Riesende from his cousin's wedding, looking resplendent in dark blue robes and an expensive pearl necklace. The woman sat gracefully in the seat offered to her, setting her purse in her lap and smiling widely, showing enough teeth that Draco wondered to himself if she ever even met a governess let alone studied under one like a proper Pureblood girl.

"You seem oddly casual," he commented, noticing the way she settled herself in the seat as though it were Draco who was the guest to this impromptu meting. If he wasn't worried about what the woman had to say, he'd almost be impressed by the way she managed to carry herself so confidently while still coming across as friendly.

Shrugging, she replied, "It wasn't so long ago that our common ancestor sat in this office. I happen to believe I belong here just as much as you do, Mr Malfoy. Especially as I come on behalf of your father." There was a coy smile on her face. "He's told me to make sure that you get this letter." Leaning forward, Rachel set an envelope on the table, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time.

He opened the letter, reading quickly through its content before reaching his father's familiar signature. Then, looking back up at her, he furrowed his brow, recalling the odd things she had mentioned at Lucille's wedding. "This letter says I'm to kill the girl but if I recall correctly you said something about the strength of a memory charm. You said a memory charm would save this girl's life, this Marie woman. How long have you known about this plan of my father's?"  
"Longer than he has, certainly. I told you, there is diluted blood in my family line that gives females the ability to see events prior to their happening. I saw your father sending you on this mission, I saw you taking an innocent girl's life, and I realised that unless I interfered, you would truly become a killer—something I know is not inside of you no matter what others may say. I offer an alternative, to simply take her memories rather than take her entire life from her."

"But you know who she is, don't you? How are you okay with this? Your family was more recently Potter than Malfoy. I thought you would be all for doing what was moral and just."

Her smile made her look predatory and wolfish. "My parents are both in Azkaban for their actions as Death Eaters. _He_ doesn't even know about our side of the family nor shown any interest in finding out, likely because he doesn't know there's anything to look for. My job is to minimise the damage done and wiping her memory is the superior option to outright killing her. Maybe it's not the most moral or just thing that can possibly be done but in the realm of greys that I often walk, this is the best way of handling the situation that I can think of after months of looking for a solution."

Draco studied the photograph in his hand, the one that came with his father's letter, and wondered if he was truly going to do what was being asked of him. The girl really did look very similar to her brother, to the point where he wondered how no one had yet caught on.

"So? What are you going to do? Are you going to cross that line and try to become something that you know deep down isn't who you truly are or will you take the best possible way out?"

Presumably, there was no third option of refusing to do any of it, or else Rachel would have offered it to him. Likely his father would just set someone else on the job, something with no sense of mercy. Someone who wasn't a coward like himself. "very well, why not? Perhaps something can come out of this, probably not, but if I don't go then Father will only send another in my stead, someone more agreeable to taking down a half-blood like her."

* * *

Odd how easily he was let into Ms Hunter's home, how readily she was convinced to talk to him just from an offer of information concerning her birth family. Her response, he felt, was almost too quickly received and only hours later he was outside of her flat, having experienced the London Underground for the first time in his life.

In person, she looked even more like her brother, the only real difference being that she had hazel eyes and lacked that obnoxiously familiar lightning bolt scar. This girl was certainly a Potter, even if she didn't know it just yet.

"So what is it you've come to tell me? Your letter wasn't particularly detailed but I showed it to my fiance and he seems to think your information might be viable enough to be worth my time so I decided to give you a chance."  
"You're engaged?" The potion that Rachel had given him was meant for the Potter girl and her parents. Hopefully, there would be enough for an unexpected fourth person. "Your letter implied you hadn't told anyone about your search for your biological family."

"That's true—only my parents and my fiance know the real story, mostly because my parents told everyone I was a surprise birth while they were in Peru. I figured it wasn't worth telling any of my mates or co-workers until I had actual information to share. As for my fiance, I trust Russell with everything. We're actually getting married tomorrow, believe it or not."

 _Another blasted wedding._ The last two years were filled with weddings and not one of them were for Draco. He was beginning to hate the very concept of nuptials.

Putting on a forced smile, he followed her to the couch, which was shoved against the counters of the kitchen as the sitting room and kitchen were all one large space, the whole of it being smaller than his bedroom alone. It was all rather cramped and he couldn't imagine how anyone would even remotely enjoy living in such a place.

"So as far as you know, your name is Melody Angela Hunter and you were born at some point in late January or early February of 1979. your parents abandoned you for an unknown reason and you've been living with Muggle parents named Amanda and Mark Hunter ever since you popped up seemingly out of nowhere as they were returning from Peru. Is this all correct?"  
"Yes, along with the fact that I'm called Melody Angela because I had on a little necklace that said MAP and my mum presumed that wasn't because I was called Map or something weird. Also, I was legally adopted in 1983 when I was four. My parents said other than the necklace that I didn't have a note with me and as far as they're aware there has never been any magical folk living nearby. I've checked the records kept by the Ministry and that seems to confirm this notion. Other than that, though, I know nothing else. So what do you have for me?"

Sighing, he pulled a newspaper clipping from his pocket and held it up for her to see. "Do you know who this man is?"

She frowned, taking the picture and looking at it. "That's Harry Potter. He's a Gryffindor a year younger than me and probably one of the most famous wizards alive right now. What does he have to do with my parents other than him being an orphan as well?"

"This is your younger brother." It made no sense to dance around the issue. "Your birth parents are—or rather _were—_ James and Lily Potter who died when you were roughly two years old. They didn't abandon you but rather you were stolen from your cot when you were only two days old by a servant of the Dark Lord only to be abandoned to avoid detection by nearby Aurors a short time later. You are a Potter, your birth name being Marie Artemis Potter. Your parents and everyone who knew about you had their memories wiped of your disappearance and of your existence a t all, being led to believe you were merely a miscarriage."

 _This is cruel,_ he thought to himself, but knew that she would never trust him if he didn't provide her with at least some kind of information.

Gaping at him, she fell against the cushion behind her, face drained of all colour as she processed what Draco had just told her, mind spinning the entire time. How was this possible? Had she truly walked the same halls as her little brother, the famous Harry Potter? It was almost bad enough to have her family given to her and almost immediately taken away than to never find them at all.

Stammering, Melody looked back up at him, struggling to form words of any kind. "Is...is this a joke? Do you have any sort of proof for all of this or is this just some sort of sick, twisted joke at my expense? I...how do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't." His tone was as casual as he could make it as he pulled another piece of parchment from his pocket, unfolding it and handing it over to her. "This is your birth certificate, also stolen from St Mungo's the same day you were. Of course, it could be just as fake as everything else I've said but I've been told it's the real thing and backs up my claim of your parentage. Not to mention, do you see how much of a similarity there is between yourself and Potter? I'm truly surprised you never even considered the idea."

Melody ran her hands over the certificate, eyes frozen on the names of her parents—James Augustus Potter and Lilian Jeanette Evans Potter. She had a real birthday, too, the nineteenth of January, rather than the estimate her parents had been using for twenty-two years.

Harry Potter was her younger brother; she was the sister of the Boy-Who_lived, defeater of the darkest wizard since Grindlewald. If she had only paid attention how much sooner could she have been reunited with her only surviving family?

From his pocket, Draco pulled one last thing—a plate of treacle tart that Rachel had given him, with a small amount of potion hidden within each slice, enough to do the job.

"I thought perhaps you could enjoy this with your fiance and parents when you told them the good news. Just enlarge it and serve. It was handmade and tastes quite delicious. my...wife made it, thought you might appreciate the gesture. As for the picture and certificate, you can keep them both as proof."

His mind briefly flitted to the charm Rachel had put on both pieces of parchment that would force Melody to do his bidding; it was an odd sort of Imperius curse that would force her to serve the treacle tart no matter what.

Not to mention that both papers were set to disappear in twenty-four hours time anyway, long after the potion should take effect and their memories were erased of all recollection of her search or her real parents or even the idea that the woman known as Melody Hunter was ever adopted in the first place. The potion better do as Rachel promised or he'd be in a world of pain.

It was undoubtedly cruel of him to rob the Hunter family of their memories and any chance of reunited Melody with her brother but the alternative was letting an innocent woman die along with her parents and fiance just because his father had made a critical error over twenty-two years prior. In all honesty, he was doing her a favour, trading the truth for her life.

Getting to his feet, Draco headed for the front door, turning long enough to see Melody staring intensely at the newspaper clipping of her brother as though her gaze would somehow bring the male to her if only she looked long and hard enough.

"I hope my visit can make you just a little bit happier, Melody," he said softly, seeing the smile on her face. He knew that in just twenty-four hours, at the latest, she wouldn't recall that any of this had happened at all but at least she had this moment.

Nodding, she practically beamed with excitement, still fixated on the photograph of her brother. It was clear that the rest of the world was long-forgotten for her so he opened the door and stepped outside, hoping he could recall the way back to the London Underground.

Certainly he knew that if push came to shove, he could ask Abellia to Apparate him home as she didn't live too far from her here but he didn't want anyone to know he'd been here nor did he want to be seen relying on anyone else, least of all one of his uncle's children, who would no doubt report back to their father about Draco's coming and going.

Draco kept walking, shoving his hands into the pockets of his stiff Muggle jeans. Even though he knew that what he was doing was the best of all possible options, Draco just couldn't shake the feeling that what he was doing was wrong. He kept trying to remind himself that the alternative was letting Melody die, if not by his hand then someone else's that his father sent to handle the situation. He wished that Rachel hadn't told him about any of this and instead allowed Melody to die without his knowledge. He would have preferred to be left out of all of this, having spent the last two years of his life struggling to separate himself from all the dark things he and his family had done in just the last decade.

Sighing, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, hurrying away from Melody's flat, trying to put all thoughts of the young woman out of his mind as he knew that soon enough he would never have to see her again.

For some reason, that didn't make him feel any better about the situation.


	38. Pansy Makes a Sudden Appearance

As Missy and Yatz cleaned off what remained of breakfast, Bobbily came in and announced that Miss Pansy Parkinson was at the door and wished to speak to Draco and Astoria immediately about a very urgent matter.

He shared a look with his fiancée, whose cheeks went red at the mention of the woman she had strongly considered running away with. Sighing heavily, Draco ordered Bobbily to allow Pansy in, stating that he and Astoria would meet her in the largest sitting room, that room which he was now seriously having permanently closed to the family. He was tired of heading into the seemingly cheery room only to have his entire life turned upside down once more but he certainly couldn't greet guests in a room of lesser value or risk offending them by implying that they weren't worth his time.

Helping Astoria to her feet, Draco guided the girl to the sitting room, the memory of her fainting last month still at the forefront of his mind every time that he looked at her. She was still unnervingly feeble and he had a house elf on guard with her whenever Draco himself could not be immediately accessible.

"What do you suppose she wants?" Astoria asked quietly, leaning on Draco's arm as they walked out of the dining room and towards the other side of the manor. "You don't suppose she's making another attempt to seduce one of us?"

To be entirely honest, he couldn't think of what she could possibly want, considering that the last time he'd seen Pansy was for a few moments before whisking Astoria back to reality. She could be after just about anything, from his money to Astoria, or simply come to have a rational conversation, though this would mark her first one if that were the case.

Pansy Parkinson, in a pink muggle-styled dress and wearing a sun hat wrapped with a bright yellow bow, was sitting on the couch, waiting for her hosts. They all eyed each other carefully as Missy brought over tea and biscuits—never mind that they'd only just finished breakfast—but Pansy declined the offer.

Almost with a level of sadistic glee, Draco noticed that she seemed to have a gained a bit of weight and her dress appeared to be second-hand, if the awkward stitching and slump in the shoulders were anything to go by.

"How have you been, Pansy?" Draco asked in the sort of falsely polite voice that one used around those they hardly knew or didn't care for. "I see you've changed your style quite a bit from our days at Hogwarts. What an...interesting decision."

She made a face and pulled at the sleeves of her dress, which only came down to her elbows but looked like they were designed for someone with much longer arms and had the sleeves chopped off, given that they were uneven in length. "I've taken to living with a Muggle friend of mine, Julia, who's taught me quite a bit about my ridiculous stuffiness towards the non-magical world that I had back in the day." She raised her head a tad, a hint of her old haughtiness flashing in her eyes. "I suppose being rejected by both my fiance and the wizarding world as a whole helps with the whole process of learning to mature and move past childish prejudices. No one else would have me so I turned to the Muggles."

"I heard your mother threw you out last year not long after your father was arrested during those raids on all the Pureblood families—and only a few months after he'd been released in the first place, too. Something about him harbouring books on dark magic, right? I know your mother always talked about disowning you but I assumed it was one of those things she said to make you behave, not because she really meant it. I guess I was wrong."

Based on the expression on Pansy's face, he was roughly one more snide comment short of being punched in the face, not that Draco really cared. It was always a favourite past time to rile Pansy up and if she thought that by dropping by unexpectedly she would gain the upper hand then there was a lot more in Draco's bag of tricks than a few comments about her mother.

"Actually, _I_ was the one who chose to leave, my mother had nothing to do with it. I decided it was time to move on and find somewhere else to live for the rest of my life as I have no intention of taking on the Parkinson name or the role as heir. That can go to my cousin, I don't want the responsibility. If anyone's been disowned, it's me disowning my mother. But she's not why we're here, Draco. She's not why I came by."

She took several delicate bites of a biscuit but kept far away from the tea that Astoria tried to offer her, shaking her head and giving the cup a look as though it had bitten her.

"The reason I'm here is that I realised that, no matter my personal feelings, you have the right to know the full story regardless of what else will happen." She took a deep breath, steeling herself to spill whatever secret it was she was keeping. "I'm roughly six weeks along at this point—I only just found out myself last week or else I would likely have told you sooner. There's...a meeting with a Healer next week if you want to come along although I obviously have no expectation that you would want anything to do with my situation."

Astoria placed a hand over her mouth and gasped, a mixture of horror and intrigue making her eyes light up. Besides his fiancée, however, Draco showed no reaction, no emotion, no sign that he understood a thing that Pansy said.

He stared at the woman, struggling to comprehend. Surely he had just misheard or perhaps this was all some sort of twisted joke—he hadn't since Pansy since August let alone slept with her. He couldn't even think of the last time the two shared a bed, it had been so long.

Then it hit him. That woman from Roselle Abbott's wedding, the one he thought looked familiar, and who he drunkenly followed to her bed for the night, thinking everything would be fine. There was a reason the woman looked so familiar, even in his intoxicated state; it was because he _did_ know her. He knew her all too well.

Dropping his head into his hands, Draco let out a low groan, wondering how he could have been so stupid. Years of sleeping with Violet and Pansy had taught him to always cast a contraception charm just in case, no matter how drunk he was. How could he have messed up this one time and got Pansy pregnant? It just didn't make sense.

"Wait," he said, his voice a low growl as his head snapped up, glaring at his ex-fiancée. "Did you _cause_ this to happen? Did you _want_ to get pregnant just ruin my life?! All you used to talk about was having my children and—you did this to ruin my relationship with Astoria because you're jealous, isn't that it?"

Sounding scandalised, Pansy reeled back, replying, "Absolutely not! I didn't even intend to sleep with you let along get pregnant but you were drunk and throwing yourself at me at a time when I wasn't exactly sober either. Trust me, I find this to be a mistake just as much as you do."  
"Then why not get rid of that _thing_ inside of you?"

"What?!" Astoria jumped to her feet then, voice shrill and horrified. "How could you ask her to do that to your own child?" She moved to Pansy, grasping the older woman's hands, the two sharing an intense look that only served to anger him more. "Of all the women you could have impregnated, at least it was Pansy, someone we both...well, that I love at least. She should live here for the time being and I can help raise the baby when it's born. And this baby could be your heir if it's a boy—like Theodore Nott is or your brother almost was."

There was a heavy silence as Draco looked between the two women, a scowl on his face. He was more than furious, now shaking with rage as he finally understood why and how this situation had come to be.

"You planned this together, the both of you. You decided to anger me by kissing Blaise so I'd get drunk and take off with Pansy. What did you do, confound me so I wouldn't remember to use a contraceptive spell? Thought you could trick me out of my status and money and make me look like some sort of fool?"

"Draco, you couldn't even use magic for a contraceptive spell in the first place, you've got no wand, remember?" Astoria, who he felt was bizarrely too eager about all of this, put her hands on her hips, shaking her head at his leap in logic. "I don't know why you've come up with this absolutely ridiculous notion but none of it is true. Pansy and I didn't plan _any_ of this and the idea that we even could have done something of the sort is insulting. I don't understand where this paranoia comes from but you need to get rid of such silliness and realise that there is great maturity required of you now that you're going to be a father."

He looked at Pansy but saw only Melody Hunter—Marie Potter—the girl whose life he had destroyed. All he could imagine was also being robbed of any memories of his child, including that he ever had one in the first place.

But in his mind, the woman of that child was not Pansy Parkinson and the child stolen from him was not the one she carried in her womb now. He would not allow her to destroy his life as he had ruined Marie Potter's, dragging up the idea of a happy ending that could never be. Because this child of hers was not his, even if he had helped to make it. Malfoys didn't raise bastards as their own unless in the most desperate of exceptions.

They had not yet reached that point.

"That _thing_ inside of you is not my child which means that I have no intention of becoming a father any time soon. Therefore, I must say that though your attempts to swindle me have been admirable, it simply won't work. Please allow me to call Missy so that you can find your way out the door and, more importantly, out of our lives."

He whistled loudly but before Pansy could be escorted from the room, Astoria stepped in front of the other girl, arms crossed and a scowl on her face that could rival Draco's in intensity.

"If you kick her out right now then I'm going too, do you understand me, Draco? I may still be angry about all the things Pansy did to my sister and jealous that she's carrying your child and—and _miffed_ that you slept with her in the first place, but she is still my friend, believe it or not, and no matter how you feel that is _your_ son or daughter growing inside of her. So if you turn your back on her, you turn your back on our entire relationship and any chance of a marriage between us will be ruined for good."

Was he truly willing to throw all of his dreams of the future away just for Pansy Parkinson?

All he had to do was look at her to know what the correct answer was—he would sooner die and leave everything to his younger cousin and uncle than get married to someone he could not trust, and he knew for sure that Pansy and Astoria had worked together to enact this plan. If the choice was between allowing Pansy and her mistake into his life or watching both women walk out of his life...well, couldn't he always find someone new, given time, or else rewrite the will to give everything to Serbius?

"If you love her so much then the two of you can leave here together. I don't want to see either of you again, though, so if you walk out that door then it's for good. I'm tired of this idiotic back and forth, Astoria, so if you decide that taking off with your little girlfriend is more important than I am then I want absolutely nothing to do with you ever again."

Shaking her head and with an utterly disappointed expression on her face, Astoria took Pansy by the hand and the two were led from the manor by Missy.

"I'll send your belongings to Gresham Hill!" he yelled at her departing figure. "You can be the one who explains to your mother why you chose that whore over me!"

When there was no response, Draco angrily slammed his fist against the table, cracking the glass and sending Astoria's abandoned tea spilling all over the carpet. Without a wand, however, he could only summon a house elf to clean everything up.

He truly had expected Astoria to see the error of her supposed bravery but she didn't, instead choosing to call him on his bluff before walking right out the door and more importantly, right out of his life.

No matter what Draco told himself, he knew deep down that there were very few families in the wizarding world that would ever allow their daughters to marry him as well as being worthy of the Malfoy name. Letting Astoria leave him in a fit of rage had been a huge mistake, one he could not fix simply by chasing after her.

What was he going to tell Mother when she came home from holiday? Or worse, the next time he visited Father and was forced to explain that he had broken things off with yet another fiancée because he got the first one pregnant?

This was all Pansy's fault anyway for taking advantage of him in a drunken state and then not having the common sense to know not to tell the lady of the house that she was pregnant. If she weren't around to ruin his life then everything would be fine and his relationship with Astoria wouldn't be utterly destroyed.

It was probably a good thing, though, that he had not yet finished his letters to Uncle Haffrey and Mrs Greengrass concerning a potential wedding date. At this point, it would appear that there would never be a wedding between the two.

Giving the broken glass another forceful smack and ignoring the blood running through his tightened fingers, Draco called for Bobbily and Yatz to clean the room and not to bother him until Mother returned. He didn't want to speak to anyone for the time being.


	39. Tough Decisions, Rough Mistakes

"How do you feel?" Violet asked, grabbing her son before he could get too far away. "First Pansy, now Astoria. Your poor luck with women almost makes me grateful that I wasn't deemed good enough to be your bride. Though if you asked me to divorce Oliver right now and marry you, I'd do it in a heartbeat no matter the consequences. Even after all this time, you're still the only one I could ever truly love, Draco."

"Which is why you're giving birth to Rivers' second child in four months time, isn't that right?" He turned his head slightly to look at her, eyeing her noticeably rounded stomach.

"Second and third, actually," she replied, setting little Edmund on the floor next to her and ordering the tot to remain where he was. The boy wasn't even a full year old yet but tended to toddle off in not constantly observed. "I guess I never did tell you, but apparently I'm carrying twins. Oliver is hoping at least of them is a girl but I want them both to be boys."

"Oh? How's that?"  
"Pureblood girls don't have the happiest of endings—we're often sold off to some other family before we're even old enough to understand what that means and then disregarded entirely until the day the man is ready to use us. If I have a daughter, I don't know what I'd do. Oliver didn't have our upbringing, he doesn't understand the pain of being a female in the Pureblood world. He even brought up the possibility of finding a betrothed for Edmund and says it's not really up to me if that's what he chooses to do for _our_ son."

He turned his attention to his cousin Lucille, who was visiting for the weekend and had brought along her three daughters—triplets only three months old. Though they were mere infants, Lucy had confessed that she and her husband were already looking for future spouses for all three girls, knowing that was what society expected of them.

"I would have thought that our generation would be a little more reluctant to engage in arranged marriages, but I suppose our parents and grandparents felt the same way and still stuck to the tradition. I don't think it will ever really end, though. We're all stuck in this bloody loop and probably will be until the end of time."

"Mm."

Violet reached down to keep her son from escaping once more. He was growing restless and wanted to investigate the little babies who were having their nappies changed right there on the marble, only a large yellow blanket keeping them from making a mess all over the place.

"You know, it seems like everyone has married and is having children. I have Edmund and the babies, Lucille has the triplets, Blaise and Tracey are due in May, Gregory has that half-blood bastard but his child with my sister is also due in May. Oh, and Theo has Daphne's daughter—what is she, two now? Almost three? And I've heard rumours that Parkinson is carrying _your_ child. Don't you feel like we're all still too young to be parents?"  
In response, he snapped, "I won't be a parent, no matter what Pansy says. That thing inside of her is not my child—I was drunk and didn't even know who she was at the time."

From her spot on the floor, Lucille watched the two older Purebloods, her hair obscuring her face so that Draco couldn't see how she felt. She was intrigued by the antics of her cousin, remembering all the times that her father mocked Uncle Lucius for having children with his mistress.

"Is she the reason that Astoria ran off and broke off your engagement?" Lucy asked, setting one of her daughters in her lap and watching Draco's reaction closely.

The male glared sharply at her, silently warning the girl to keep her mouth shut or else. "Our 'break up' as you call it was completely mutual, thank you very much. And this time around, I've decided to look for a bride without your father—something that you can tell him I said directly. I don't give a damn what that man thinks any more."

Little Edmund had managed to slip from his mother's grasp and scurried to the doorway, crying, "Ana here, Ana here!" only seconds before Missy, bowing deeply, announced that Mister Nott and Miss Anaed Greengrass were at the front door.

"Did you invite him here?" one of the women asked.

Draco shook his head, ordering Missy to let the two new guests into the manor, wondering what it was that Theo wanted from him and why he'd brought his disgrace of a daughter along.

Theo stepped into the room, Anaed following after him though she was reluctant to stop hiding behind her father's legs. Even at only two years old, she looked quite a lot like Daphne, though with Theo's dark hair, which resulted in a long moment where Draco was convinced he was looking at the daughter that he and Astoria might have if they ever did have children.

 _An unlikely future at this point_.

"Hello, all. I hope you don't mind that I brought Ana along but I heard Lucille already had her children here and Millicent keeps insisting that she'll have nothing to do with my daughter so I've really got no one to look after her for the moment."

The two males eyed each other, practically sizing the other up. Draco narrowed his eyes at Theo, still waiting for an explanation as to why he was here today.

Finally, for the third time that morning, the question that was so clearly on everyone's mind was asked. "Is it true, then, all the stories about you letting Astoria run off because you got Pansy Parkinson pregnant? Did you really do something so daft?"

"You're actually daring to call _me_ daft? You're the one who has a perfectly acceptable wife but chose to put her aside to parade around a bastard as though she'll ever be accepted in our society." He glanced over at Anaed, who was now sitting quietly on the edge of the blanket set out for the triplets. She was watching her father intently but didn't seem to understand much of what was going on. "I gave Astoria the option to either give up her unrealistic desire to let Pansy live here at Malfoy Manor or else join the slag on the streets where she belongs. Astoria has shown me where her loyalties lie and proven that she is not the sort of wife that I deserve."

"Astoria is better than what you deserve, are you bloody kidding me? You _cheated_ on her, Draco, just like you used to cheat on Pansy with Violet. I may not love Millicent but at least I'm not running around town kissing any girl that looks my way."

Violet gave Theo a very nasty look at his comments but said nothing, knowing this was not her argument to get into.

"No, instead you chose to torture your poor wife by denying her that most sacred duty of carrying your son, your _true_ heir because you're far too busy pretending that the child of a dead woman to whom you were never betrothed could ever be seen as anything other than a mistake."

Anaed popped her head up, echoing Draco's final word. "Mistake?" she asked hesitantly, eyes widening. "Ana is a mistake? Mistake? I mistake?" Then, clearly understanding the inflection of the word if not what it actually meant, Anaed began crying loudly, running to her father, who scowled at Draco.

"Why do you insist on destroying any small amount of happiness that might exist in this world?" Theo snapped, running his hands across Anaed's head and back to soothe her. "No wonder Astoria chose Pansy over you with the way that you treat other people. You deserve to die alone."

From her place on the floor, Lucy pulled her children closer to her, worried that the two men would come to blows. She would rather not expose her young children to such violence nor risk any of them being hurt in the process.

"Nobody wanted _you_ , Theo! You slept with Daphne because she said yes, not because she really loved you—why do you think she never tried to convince her father to tie herself to you? Milly doesn't love you, she only puts up with you in the hopes that you'll throw her some sort of bone and give her a son. Even your father only picked you as the heir to punish your brother for sleeping around with Muggle women, not because he cared about you in any capacity. The only person you have is that little brat, who likely only loves you because she doesn't know any better. But, sure, Theo, try to convince me that _I'm_ the one who's going to die pathetic and alone."

A stony expression crossed Theo's face as he held Anaed tightly in her arms. Voice curt and cold, he replied, "Draco Malfoy, you are little more than scum and I am astounded that once upon a time you were the bully that we all cowered from back during our Hogwarts years. In fact, I laugh at what a foolish coward I was back then now that I see how low you have sunk. You are a sad, angry little man whose only goal is to hurt and destroy those around you. I came here to make sure that you were okay given everything that happened but now I _hope_ you're suffering because I can't think of anyone who deserves to suffer more than you do right now!"

He stormed off, shoving Missy out of the way in his hurry to get out the door. In the foyer, the front door slammed, making everyone jump and Edmund Rivers began to cry, though his mother paid him very little attention.

"I think I ought to take the children upstairs for the time being," mumbled Lucille, also shuffling towards the door, a sheepish expression on her face. "It's—it's time for their nap, you know? I don't want them to be cranky this evening when I'm trying to make sure they're fed."

The room emptied out so that it was Draco, Violet, and her son, who was still bawling his eyes out, though Violet gave no indication that she noticed him at all. Violet didn't seem to care very much for her son.

"You didn't deserve that, Drakey, that was _so_ uncalled for. Barging into your home and harassing you about your private life? And even worse, those terrible things that Theodore Nott said to you for absolutely no reason at all! I mean, the absolute nerve of it all, the immaturity! I can hardly believe he had the audacity to behave in such a way." Violet seemed to have forgotten her own pressing questions asked only minutes before Theo's.

Somehow, he couldn't find it within himself to care about a single thing Violet was saying even if he would normally agree with her. Today, though, given everything that had happened, he couldn't bring it upon himself to find any enjoyment in Violet's attempts to smooth things over and make him feel special.

"No one wants to marry a man that's been betrothed twice and had to set aside both fiancées without ever seeing a wedding day. Besides that, the number of eligible woman of an appropriate age has shrunk significantly as of late, with most of them finding themselves betrothed recently. The only ones left for me are the children, girls I'd have to wait several more years to marry if I ended up choosing any of them. Otherwise, there are widows and women older than myself, which I disapprove of on every level. Obviously, all divorcees are out the window. The potential dating pool left to me is pathetically small, Violet."

She put a gentle hand on his knee, leaning in close with a sympathetic look in her eyes. "Drakey, I think _she's_ making a grave mistake in walking out that door but you also shouldn't have allowed her to do that in the first place. It's so obvious that the two of you care about each other. Perhaps it's not the sort of relationship that you and I have, this intense love that we share, but you definitely have feelings for her and I saw how she looked at you back during Gregory's wedding. You two definitely care about each other and there's no point in pretending that your feelings are anything other than ones of respect and desire."

Shaking his head, Draco shoved her hand off of him, not wanting to be touched at that exact moment in time. He didn't want to hear what she had to say either, knowing that there was at least some level of truth to her words. But there was no one in the world that he could tell about the angry tears that he struggled to keep from falling the night after Astoria walked out the door. He couldn't tell Violet that—he couldn't tell anyone.

"Theo got one thing right," he muttered sullenly. "I'm going to die alone because I push away everyone that's close to me with the exception of you, though I strongly suspect that's only because you're too stubborn to back off. You're the only woman I can't have, but you refuse to leave my side no matter what. Isn't that just fucking hilarious? Isn't that just a fucking twist of fate? I love you more than either of my former betrothed and you clearly love me more than your husband but we can never be with one another. I'm destined to die alone because the universe is more interested in playing cruel jokes on me."

Bowing his head towards his knees, Draco groaned and wondered how much it would hurt if he jumped off the roof. He wondered if he would die before he even hit the ground or if the universe would have the last laugh and force him to feel every painful final second.


	40. A Sense of Regret

Almost immediately after walking out of the Malfoy Manor, Astoria was filled with an intense sense of regret, knowing that she had made a serious mistake in leaving her fiance for the pregnant, socially unforgivable Pansy Parkinson. It was foolish of her to stomp her foot and make demands of any kind, to see a challenge placed before her and choose to take it, consequences be damned.

But she couldn't return, couldn't turn back towards the house and beg for forgiveness. Draco would not accept someone who was so quick to tuck tail between legs and come limping back home with a pleading tone in her voice, willing to get on her knees and sob until he took her back.

Pansy reached out to grasp her hand, turning on one heel to Apparate them outside of her flat, which was a tiny, cramped looking place in the middle of Muggle London. Cats were sleeping on the bins outside and the metal railing for the stairs was rusted and falling away from the steps, wildly swinging any time a breeze swept by.

"The place is a bit of a mess—Julia and I take turns cleaning the place up typically but we haven't really had the time to get around to doing anything about the trash and whatnot. Oh, and she probably has somebody sleeping on the sofa because that's just the sort of thing that Julia does, inviting people to crash on the sofa for a week or two a ta time."

The two walked up the steps, having to dodge the trash that other people had left out. Astoria nearly stepped on a fat orange cat, only managing to avoid the beast because she heard a loud snore and glanced down at her feet in confusion.

Inside the building, the situation was little better—a drunken man in his late forties sat outside a door to one of the flats, knocking weakly every few seconds and pleading to be let inside. The numbers for a different flat had fallen off, leaving only the faded markings behind. The whole place smelt of cat piss—at least she _hoped_ it was cat piss and not someone else's—and rotten milk that was set out for too long on the counter. Dust seemed to coat every surface, landing on their clothes and hair, making Astoria cough and sneeze.

The flat that Pansy shared with her Muggle friend was at the end of a very long hallway, with scratch marks cutting deep into the wood.

"Jules? I've brought a friend over so I hope you're decent!" Pansy called as she unlocked and opened the front door, ushering Astoria inside with a hurried wave.

There was a very tall woman with scruffy brown hair that barely reached her shoulders, which were rather wide for a traditional woman. She was flat-chested, something Astoria could only say confidently because the woman was shirtless, too busy sorting through all of her tops to be able to actually wear one.

She smiled at the newest occupant of her home, setting the shirt in her hands down on the strange cloth table she was using to press a triangular block of metal over her clothing.

"Oh hello, Pansy. Hello, Pansy's friend. I've been doing laundry, as you can probably see, mostly because I took a look around my bedroom and realised that there was pretty much nothing left to wear. And unfortunately, I don't think I'd fit in anything of yours, Pans. Which is a shame, considering how cute your clothes are."

Julia—or at least who Astoria assumed was Julia—placed the shirt she had been pressing onto a rack along with several other articles of clothing before bending down to grab a purple ball of fabric from a laundry basket, quickly revealing the ball to actually be a long backless dress.

"This is Astoria. She's the fiancée of my ex-boyfriend as well as the little sister of that girl I told you I used to be madly in love with. Astoria and the ex-boyfriend had a stupid fight because she dared to stick up for me when I went to tell him I'm pregnant. I swear that man has grown far more paranoid over the last two years."

Looking Astoria over with a critical eye, Julia responded, "Is this the one that you kissed in the middle of a pub full of people that wanted you dead and then the fiance came back to claim her once more?" Pansy nodded. "Oh boy. What have you done now, Panny? Love triangles never work out for anyone, you should know that more than most."

She frowned thoughtfully as she pressed the now steaming metal triangle over her dress, still eyeing Astoria like she was a strange animal that had never been seen before and Julia couldn't quite believe the oddity she was looking at.

"Sorry," Astoria interjected, "but are you a Muggle? That seems like an awfully strange way to dry your clothes. couldn't you just have Pansy wave her wand and do it all for you?"

The two women chuckled lightly to each other.

"I'm _awful_ with laundry spells, Astoria. It's probably for the best that Draco didn't marry me because I would have likely set the house on fire trying to do a simple drying charm."

"Not to mention that I've spent twenty-six years of my life doing everything the Muggle way so I see no issue with continuing doing things in the manner I'm accustomed to. It's almost relaxing to me and it ensures that I always have something in my life that I get to have complete control over no matter what else is happening around me."

Still laughing, Pansy added, "Not to mention that Julia managed to break her dryer less than a month after moving in and maintenance refuses to do anything about it."

This Muggle home was a strange place, Astoria decided, where even the most witchy of people found themselves abandoned magic in favour of doing things the Muggle way. But she could also sense a feeling of openness and friendliness rather than the cold, distant air of Malfoy Manor where one could walk for hours without seeing another living soul bigger than a mouse.

This was also a place where Draco couldn't find her, considering the only time he'd been here was when he was too drunk to even function properly. He struggled with Muggle currency and modes of transportation—even worse than Astoria—and likely would not consider it worth his time to attempt a trip through Muggle London just to hunt Astoria down. And at this point, he wouldn't want her back anyway considering how people would look at him for being the one to chase her down and beg for Astoria to return home.

"Do you think you'll be staying here long?" asked Julia, shaking Astoria from her thoughts. "It's not that I don't want you here but I've only got the two bedrooms and the whole place is cramped even with two people that live here full time."

"Oh...er...um, well I dunno because it's not like I...like I can get a job or anything." She looked desperately over to Pansy for help, not knowing how to respond. "I don't have any marketable skills and—and that's just not what Purebloods girls do."

As a young girl, she'd dreamt of becoming a potioneer and working for a company like Henrik's or Dagworth-Granger to create and test new potions every day. But that hadn't ever been a viable dream in a world where her only expectations were to marry rich and have sons.

"Why not?" Pansy cocked her head, almost smirking at the younger girl's naivete. "I work at The Daily Prophet writing about fashion and the love lives of Quidditch players. It's trashy work but it pays enough to survive and I actually have fun doing my job—a lot more fun than I'd be having doing housework and raising snotty kids all day long."  
"Says the pregnant one," remarked Julia with a short laugh, hanging up the dress alongside the rest of her clothes. "But Panny's got a point, you know, about getting a job no matter how other people may react. Anyone who complains can go fuck themselves, same as anyone who talks shite about my gender or Panny's sexuality. You shouldn't ever let someone else's opinion affect how you feel about a dream or desire that you hold dear."

"And if it's Draco that ever tries to give you shit for having a job then that just further proves that he isn't worth your time. I can't believe you didn't leave him sooner, honestly." Pansy pranced over to the rack of clothes, running her fingers over the fabric with her nose raised in the air, giving Astoria a flashback to the days at Hogwarts when Pansy would snootily judge all that she saw laid out before her.

Astoria settled on the sofa, hands neatly resting on her lap as she pursed her lips and considered what the older women were telling her. "Do you think he'll ever try to take me back? Not that I necessarily want him to, but is there any chance at all?"

"No." Pansy's tone was cold, her words point blank and lacking the sarcastic cheeriness of only moments before. "Draco doesn't care about anyone who isn't himself, just as he was taught to be. Malfoys aren't allowed to care for others, even the very people they ought to such as fiancées or future daughter-in-laws. And I don't mean to sound bitter because this would be true no matter who dated Draco—you, me, Violet, or anyone else. Lucius Malfoy grew to love Narcissa Black because she was beautiful and needed someone who would love her more than anything else, but we are not that to Draco. We will _never_ be that to Draco no matter what we may want. He won't kowtow to you or come crawling on his knees. It's more likely that he'll find someone new within six months and you'll just be a footnote."

Though Astoria knew that Pansy was most likely correct, she also couldn't help but be disappointed in the fact that Draco would never love her in the same way that little Pureblood girls always dreamt of before being faced with the harshness of reality.

"If we actually had a date to be married, I bet he would take me back," she muttered, pressing her thumbnail into the palm of her hand.

"Yes, but that almost certainly _won't_ happen considering his Uncle Haffrey is intentionally trying to sabotage any chance of a successful marriage in order to take on the role as Malfoy heir for one of his sons. Haffrey did the exact same thing to us when I was Draco's fiancée."

"Is there any way to change his mind?" interjected Julia, setting down the metal triangle to look at the two witches with a curious gleam in her eye.

Pansy shrugged. "It'd be way easier if Haffrey were out of the picture altogether because the role of executive male to Draco's wedding contract would go to Serbius, Haffrey's son. The boy's fifteen and admires Draco greatly—he'd likely do anything that Draco asked of him."

"But the only way to make that happen is to—"

"Murder Haffrey Malfoy, yes." Pansy didn't hesitate, frowning and still with her nose in the air. "Haffrey Malfoy will not relinquish control until the day he dies and since the man is in perfect health, the only real solution is to snuff him out, to end his reign a tad sooner than was expected. Otherwise, the two of you have no chance of marrying."

Having neatly folded her hands in her lap, Astoria nodded solemnly, knowing what needed to be done. Walking out on Draco had been a mistake and the only way to fix her mistake was to solve their marital troubles and show Draco how she truly felt.

"Whatever it is that I need to do in order to prove myself, I'll do it." Her jaw was set and she raised her chin to show Pansy and Julia that she meant every word. "I would be willing to kill a man if it meant correcting what I did wrong."

"For fuck's sake," muttered Julia, almost to herself, "is this really how you witchy girls live? I'd heard the magical world was intense but this really takes the cake. I mean, a sweet girl like you _killing_ someone? And all for a man that doesn't even love you?"  
"No, Astoria won't be killing anyone. _I'll_ do that for you if it's what you truly want in order to be happy. Let me dirty my hands—I don't want you to suffer, especially since you're not the sort to want others to be in pain." Pansy placed her hands on her hips, intense and every bit ready to take out whoever it was standing in the way of Astoria's hopes and dreams. "I just want you to be happy, Astoria, no matter the cost."


	41. Things Fall Apart

"It would appear that Lucille and her husband are long past their honey moon phase. Do you know how much longer she intends on staying with us? I do quite enjoy having little ones around the house once more but she _does_ have her own mother to turn to in this time of need." Mother, who was having one of her better days, took a sip of her pumpkin juice before leaning over to clean one of the triplets faces, wiping off the mushy peas that coated the infant.

Lucille was still upstairs in her room, claiming that she had been up all night and needed her beauty sleep. Not that Draco believed her, considered he'd awoken at three in the morning by an infant screaming and never heard Lucille move at all to do anything about the noise.

His cousin had been living at Malfoy Manor for almost two months now with no sign of returning to her home, nor had she received any form of contact from her supposedly loving husband.

Though, to be honest, it wasn't as though Draco really cared if Lucille left that very day or stayed at the Manor forever. He had far more important things to do with his life than be worried about the crumbling marriage of an eighteen year old who'd never struggled a day in her life.

"I was thinking of going to visit Violet later this afternoon," he told Mother, shovelling the remaining bites of egg into his mouth. "Rivers is on a trip for his father's company for the next week and surely a woman nearly seven months pregnant shouldn't be left all alone, wouldn't you agree? What if something were to happen to her?"

The look on his mother's face implied that she most certainly did _not_ agree. "You'll only be making things worse by continuing your relationship with that girl. Just because her husband is too much of a fool to see what's going on between you two doesn't mean he'll be a fool forever—and it doesn't ensure that everyone else has remained blind to what the two of you do when Mr Rivers isn't around. That sort of talk gets around fast, Draco."

"I'll be fine," he replied, turning to order Bobbily to pack an overnight bag for him. "If Rivers wants to fight over Violet he can do that, but there's nothing that says Vi's not allowed to do whatever she wants with whomever she chooses. They didn't write promises of fidelity into their vows so I can't be blamed."

Mother made a noise of disapproval but knew that she didn't have the place or authority to outright forbid him from going to see Violet as she might have been back when he was still underage. But he was twenty years old now, the head of the Malfoy house, and there was no one that could order him around any more.

Except, it would seem, for when it came to marriage as his requests to Uncle Haffrey to set Astoria aside and look for someone new had come back negative every time, always with an explanation that distaste for his betrothed was not a valid reason to leave her. Haffrey also refused to name a wedding date, only strengthening Draco's suspicions that all of this was part of some larger plot to steal the power and wealth of the Malfoy name away from him to be funnelled to Haffrey and his sons instead.

"Regardless of how you feel about the matter, Mother, we must both acknowledge that I am engaged but have no fiancée to show for it—an heirship with no sign of an incoming heir. You allowed Father to seek out alternatives elsewhere with a married woman so why should I not be allowed to do the same?"

" _I_ was having fertility issues! Your fiancée ran off because you drunkenly impregnated your ex and then accused them both of plotting against you. Besides that, if you truly need an heir, our original choice for your wife appeared to be in that indecent state right now, doesn't she? Or do you truly think it wise to be running around leaving remnants of yourself wherever you go?"

Glaring at his mother, Draco felt his hands tighten into clenched fists. "As I believe has been expressed quite clearly, I will never claim that _thing_ growing inside Pansy as my child let alone my heir. If my child must be a bastard, let them at least have some actual social standing."

"I'm not the one who was foolish enough to become so intoxicated that following Pansy Parkinson to bed sounded like a good idea, so I recommend that you lower your tone, Draco Lucius Malfoy. You may be an adult now, but I will not be spoken down to by my own son. Would it not just be easier to own up to your mistakes rather than try to shove everything under the rug and pretend as though you've done nothing wrong?"  
"Mother, do me a favour and drop the issue, alright? I'm going to visit Violet as frequently and publicly as I choose to do and no amount of attempting to guilt me into doing what _you_ believe to be the correct thing is going to work on me. Pansy can keep her child and parade all up and down the island proclaiming the thing to be mine but that will never change the fact that _I_ have no interest or requirement to actually claim him. Things would be different if it were Violet carrying my son, but for now, I can at least serve as a friend and a companion to her until my situation improves. And who knows, maybe she will be given that honour one day. Salazar knows you are so desperate for some sort of grandchild."

With that, he stormed out of the dining room, snatching the knapsack from Bobbily's hands before heading upstairs to write a letter to Violet so she knew to open her fireplace in order for him to be able to visit her.

Thankfully there were only four more months until Draco would be able to do magic and Apparate once more and he wouldn't be so reliant on everyone else around him.

But until then he would continue going through the motions, waiting for someone else to come fetch him and put him on the right track for whatever it was he was meant to do with his life. Even with the situation involving Astoria, he was still relying on others, waiting for the moment that either Haffrey broke their contract or Astoria came to her senses and returned.

Neither looked likely to happen any time soon so as an alternative, he wrote a letter to Violet asking if she wanted to spend the afternoon enjoying a picnic and the evening spent perhaps taking in a show, just the two of them—or the two of them and her son if no one could be found to look after him. But he had faith in Violet that she was smart enough to find someone _somewhere_ on which to shove the little brat.

If things were going to shite, he might as well have a nice time while his entire life fell apart. It was only fair, after all.

* * *

Pansy lowered her sunglasses just enough to eye Haffrey Malfoy with a critical gaze before turning back to Astoria and pulling up the Muggle contraption back over her face, shielding her from anyone else's view.

It had been four months since the two women came up with their plan to take out the man holding the Malfoy's end of the wedding contract hostage and whatever free time they had went towards following the older male to learn as much as possible about him to most effectively be able to take him out without anyone catching on that the two women were involving in any way.

"So it would appear that he eats at the same place every Thursday for his lunch break. I didn't think anyone could like one restaurant so much that they would visit at the same time every week, let alone a place as trashy as Spellman's Pub. The food here is sub par at best and they overcharge for their corned beef sandwiches. Mine has been burnt every single time."

"We're on a bloody stakeout and you're critiquing the _menu_? Just order something different next time or else get nothing at all. We aren't here to try the food, we're trying to collect information on a man in order to correct what has gone wrong in this world." Astoria, for the third stakeout in a row, cut her shepherd's pie in half and dumped one of the slices onto Pansy's plate before taking her sandwich, not minding corned beef even if it was overpriced and far too crispy around the edges to really be considered edible any more.

They watched as Haffrey told a joke to the same female companion he'd brought to lunch every other time. The woman—who was certainly not his wife—laughed and affectionately touched his shoulder, smiling toothily at everything he said.

So far the only thing they'd really discovered about Haffrey Malfoy was that he was a man obsessed with maintaining a scheduled life, always doing the exact same thing from one week to the next with absolutely no change.

He was also a scumbag who was seeing at least three separate women over his lunch breaks and on weekends but to the two females tailing him, such a revelation didn't really mean very much. They were going to kill Haffrey anyway so his infidelity did nothing to affect their opinion of him. He was detestable enough before discovering that he was also cheating on his wife.

"How long do you think we'll keep doing this? We've been tailing him since January, we know all there is to know about my uncle but you refuse to actually do anything about it. Are you actually trying to help me or is this all a big waste of my time to dissuade me from returning to Draco once more? Be honest, Pans."

Pink flushed in Pansy's cheeks though her eyes remained hidden behind the large Muggle sunglasses. "Like I told you, I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness. If you believe that reuniting with and marrying Draco is what will bring about that happiness then I will help as best I can to make sure that happens."

"We're plotting to _kill_ someone," Astoria hissed under her breath. She knew it was the only real option left and she certainly felt no pity for the likes of Haffrey Malfoy but months of contemplation and planning had caused her to blanch slightly on the idea of actually taking a life. Pansy, on the other hand, seemed far too eager to murder someone—anyone—yet was taking forever to put together a cohesive plan for what they were going to do. Astoria was starting to wonder if maybe there weren't other ways to marry Draco. Would running off and eloping really be such a bad thing?

"This isn't exactly the sort of thing where you decide to do it and bam, it's done. We're talking about—" Pansy fell quiet as a waitress walked past before leaning in closer to continue, "—about killing a man, not baking a cake. It's a little harder than you seem to realise."

Astoria took a large bite of her meal, turning her head just slightly enough to notice that Haffrey Malfoy and the woman were both getting to their feet and saying their good-byes. The woman left Spellman's but Haffrey, after dropping a few coins on the table, headed in the direction of the two young witches sitting on the opposite end of the room.

"Uh-oh," muttered Astoria, getting Pansy's attention and nodding in the direction of her uncle. They moved to leave but Haffrey was already in front of them, blocking their exit from the well-worn booth they'd been occupying for nearly an hour.

He was tall and menacing, placing his long bony hands on the edges of the table, fingers curling around the wood as he leaned forward to assert himself.

"Hello Astoria, Ms Parkinson. Fancy seeing the two of you here. I didn't think you were the sort to occupy a place like Spellman's Pub. Then again, you probably think much the same of me." His chuckle was low and chills ran through Astoria, making her wonder how they were ever going to take this man out.

"Hello, Uncle." She smiled dimly at him, hoping that he didn't find it _too_ suspicious that they had decided to patron at a place so low-class as this. Did he suspect ulterior motives or was he just surprised to see them? "Was your lunchtime companion a co-worker of yours? I don't believe I've ever seen her at any of Aunt Drisella's luncheons or other socials."

He grimaced but waved his hand airily. "An old friend of mine from my Hogwarts days is all, nothing more. We've taken to meeting up every now and then to discuss the old days, how different things used to be. But I must say that I'm quite glad to have run into you today, Astoria. I've been wanting to ask how things are going between you and Draco. I heard you had a rather abrupt falling out over...indelicate matters." He glanced over at Pansy's lightly rounded stomach, now nearly seven months along. "Have you spoken to my nephew at all?"

"Oh." Astoria and Pansy shared an uncomfortable glance. "No, we've not spoken. In fact, I strongly suspect I won't be seeing Draco for a while considering he refuses to see me or answer any of my owls." A lie, but obviously she couldn't tell Haffrey the truth. Draco had made no contact with her, but neither had she with him, wanting to keep him in the dark until their plan came to fruition. "Worse yet is that I can't escape our contract so I'll likely spend the rest of my life alone and unable to ever wed unless I can convince Draco otherwise."

 _Let him think I don't know the truth of who holds the contract. Let him think I am a fool who knows absolutely nothing at all._

"My apologies," he replied, though he didn't seem terribly upset to hear the news. And why should he be, being the one who held the contract, who was standing in the way of their marriage? Haffrey benefited if Astoria and Draco never married, of course he would be happy to see that their relationship was failing.

"Yes, well, I suppose this is what I must live with. I made a mistake and the consequences are something I must simply accept." The words burnt her tongue to say, but she couldn't let him walk out of the restaurant thinking that there was even a chance that things could be repaired between the young couple otherwise he might become suspicious.

They chatted for a few minutes longer before Haffrey told the girls good-bye and left them to their meals.

All that Astoria could think about was how much she wanted to make things right again. Her earlier hesitation had been washed away entirely by seeing the smugness in Haffrey's eyes as he pretended to care about her.

Astoria wanted to see him dead by any means possible. She didn't care if he suffered or begged for mercy. The man was ruining her life—she merely wanted to repay the favour.


	42. The Cost of Returning

On the nineteenth of May, Astoria turned nineteen years old, an event that she celebrated by playing Exploding Snap with Pansy, Julia, and Tracey Davis, who had come by to show off her newborn son, little more than a fortnight old and named Booker, to everyone else's bewilderment. But Tracey was insistent that she and Blaise loved the name so the other girls said nothing.

"So how are things going with Draco?" Tracey asked in a forced casual tone as the cards exploded in her face. She got to her feet to soothe little Booker. "I've heard talk about what he and Violet Rivers have been getting up to. There are even rumours that her son was actually Draco's and the two paid off a Healer to strangle him so that no one would know the truth of what they'd done. Otherwise, what are we supposed to think? Her newborn son dies but the girl survives? I don't think that's likely, do you?"

Choosing to ignore Tracey's comments, Astoria set out the snap cards once more for a new round. It was her birthday and that meant she could be rude and moody all day long to whoever she wanted and they couldn't complain. She wasn't going to engage in a conversation about her fiance doing inappropriate things with other women.

"Does Blaise know you've run off with his precious son to hang out with a bunch of social outcasts and a Muggle?" Pansy raised her eyebrows and snickered when Tracey's eyes widened in panic, flittering in Julia's direction. Apparently, she hadn't realised the older woman wasn't just a particularly quirky witch.

"Er...Blaise doesn't need to know _everywhere_ that I go. Am I not allowed to have a wife outside of being his wife? Not like he isn't constantly running off to get drunk with his mates, whoever those fools are this particular month. But we're both adults, so he should understand that I need some time away from him every now and then. _I_ don't get upset when he talks to another woman, I'm not paranoid like that."

She pulled Booker from the cot that Tracey had brought along, rocking the infant back and forth until his distressed noises quieted down to a muted snuffling. There were bags under Tracey's eyes and she slumped ever so slightly, showing signs of exhaustion after only two weeks of motherhood. The time had not been kind to her.

Pansy, on the other hand, despite being nearly seven months pregnant, didn't seem to be slowed down by her swollen feet and ballooning belly as she went for a walk in the local park every afternoon and refused to give up the habit of buying Indian food on Friday nights, despite the others' protests that she was doing no one any favours, least of all her unborn child.

It was likely that, even after giving birth, Pansy wouldn't have that same slack-jawed, glassy eyed look that Tracey had—purely because she wouldn't _allow_ herself to.

"How far along are you at this point, Pans?" Tracey asked, looking back up at her old friend. "I feel like you're way smaller than I was just a few months ago. You've kept your figure quite nicely even with the bump."

"I'll be seven months along in a few days, so I've still got some time to put on some weight. Though if I recall correctly, my mother wasn't ever particularly heavy with either of my brothers even at the very end of the pregnancy. And I believe Mrs Malfoy said none of her pregnancies were very large, so it's likely that this little guy won't be a very big baby, which I'm definitely grateful for. I couldn't imagine giving birth to a four kilo baby."

"Do you think it will be a boy?"

Pansy gave Tracey a droll look, chuckling lightly. " _Obviously_ it will be a boy. _True_ Malfoys don't have a bunch of daughters and even if there was a chance of having a girl, I've been using old Malfoy family secrets to ensure my child is a male. People like Lucille Abbott, who have three girls all in one go, clearly have had their blood diluted by marrying half-bloods, particularly the likes of an _Abbott_. Can you say _distasteful_?"

"Didn't Draco's aunt marry an aunt and still have only girls? How do you explain that?" Tracey—a half-blood herself—placed Booker in her lap and pulled out a bottle from her cloth bag, placing the teat of the bottle into her son's mouth for him to suck.

Tuning out the discussion, Astoria looked somewhat solemnly down at the now abandoned game of cards, wondering if she would ever have the opportunity to discuss her own impending baby, to contemplate names and the gender or what was the best type of cot to buy.

But to have a baby, she would need to marry first since she wasn't like Pansy, who was so casual about who she fell into bed with and for whom a marriage proposal was no longer a given in life, nor even a likely outcome.

It wasn't as though Astoria was desperate to become pregnant and be a mother—and at nineteen, she still had quite a number of years to actually get down to doing such things—but being surrounded by all these women who were at that stage in their lives made her feel that same urge gnawing at the back of her mind, whispering that the clock was going to run out before she was expecting it to do so.

As a girl in her early teens, Astoria had sworn she would never be the sort who was obsessed with make-up and jewellery and babies like everyone else. Even now, she wouldn't really say that her cravings for a son were an obsession, but seeing the excitement in Pansy and Tracey's faces, as tired as Tracey was, made her heart twinge as she couldn't help but wonder how her life might be different if she and Draco were already married.

"Baby fever catching you by surprise?" asked Julia quietly, leaning over so that only Astoria could hear her. At the younger woman's ashamed nod, Julia chuckled. "Ever since I started taking drugs for my hormone treatment, I've felt the exact same way. All my friends are getting married and having a child and as desperately as I'd like to be one of them, I know that will never happen, not in the same way as Pansy. I just don't have the right parts to become a mum like that."

"I don't even like babies that much—never have, really. Mum would try to get me to look after my sister Serenia when I still had a sister and sometimes I'd have my youngest sister, Linelle, shoved onto me during holidays from school but even then, I didn't want anything to do with them. Now, though, I fall asleep and dream of having a son and daughter with Draco. I dream of wearing his ring on my finger and..." Her voice trailed off as her fingers clutched at the empty space around her neck where the engagement ring used to hang.

Where was it? Snatched from around her neck and shoved deep into one of her bags back when she first arrived at Julia's, to be forgotten until just now.

Did she even have the right to wear it any more, considering that she and Draco weren't together? But surely there was great meaning in the fact that he had not demanded that she give the ring back, as an engagement ring that had once belonged to his mother was not exactly the sort of thing so easily given away and forgotten?

Jumping to her feet, Astoria scrounged around amongst her belongings until her fingers brushed up against a cold metal chain and she pulled out her engagement ring, which glinted even under the dull lights of Julia's sitting room.

She held the ring on its chain close to her chest, eyes closed as she recalled how different things had been when he proposed to her, how much happier they'd both been in those short weeks before she headed off for her final year at Hogwarts.

Would that ever be true for her and Draco again, a time where the most disastrous thing that had happened was a fight over Astoria's diet choices? Or would nothing she said or did actually be able to have a real effect on their crumbling relationship? Was there a point in her going to all this effort for possibly nothing in return? If she killed a man and Draco still refused to take her back, Astoria wasn't sure _what_ she would do.

"What's that you have there, Tori?" Tracey asked, setting Booker back in his cot so that she could come over to look at what Astoria was holding.

Blinking as she was dragged back out of her thoughts, she looked to Tracey standing over her and Pansy not too far behind, both of them curious at the glinting, shiny metal that she clutched so tightly in her hands.

Unsure if she actually wanted to tell them the truth, but also knowing that there wasn't really an option _not_ to, Astoria reluctantly uncurled her fingers to show them her ring, its chain slipping between her fingers. She hoped they wouldn't think too much of the fact that her engagement ring was currently serving as a necklace and that they wouldn't notice she'd not been wearing it for the last several months.

"He gave you Narcissa's ring? He told me that he'd never give me his mother's ring because it was meant to be given to the woman he loved more than anything else." There was a twinge of pain that coloured Pansy's tone, like she wanted to cry but refused to do so in front of other people. "I remember reading about your engagement in the papers but I hadn't realised he gave you Narcissa's ring. I hadn't realised he cared about you so much."

How was she meant to respond to such a statement without making insinuations about her relationship with Draco as compared to Pansy?

"He didn't say he loved me or anything, just gave me the ring right before my seventh year back when we thought it would be only a short time before we were actually married. I don't think he loved me then, let alone feeling such a way about me now."

Pansy made a noise that implied she thought there was something more to the story that Astoria wasn't telling her, but said nothing more about the subject. Her cheeks were flushed pink but she refused to make eye contact with the younger woman.

Placing the chain around her neck once more, Astoria ran her fingers over the smooth metal, imagining Draco bursting into the small flat and insisting that he had made a huge mistake in letting her leave. But it was May now and she'd walked out at the end of November; if he intended on changing his mind, he likely would have done so by now.

This was why it was important to ensure a wedding date for the two of them so that he would have no choice but to take her back with open arms. And the only way to make that happen was to get rid of her uncle.

Suddenly Booker began crying once more and Tracey, with a deep sigh, moved to check on his again while Pansy placed a hand on her stomach and insisted that she wanted nothing more than the world's largest plate of curry and that there was no argument they could come up with that could convince her to eat anything else.

Julia and Tracey began bickering away about the possible side effects for the baby of all the spicy food that Pansy had been eating over the past several months.

Left all alone to her thoughts again, Astoria stared morosely down at the ring, thoughts of her recent dreams of a family with Draco flashing through her mind. The little boy that had blond hair and green eyes, the girl with long curls tied up in pigtails as she giggled and pleaded with Draco to spin her around the back garden, clapping her hands in glee when he complied.

But as with her dreams, there was that eternally dark reminder that none of that would be possible until they were able to move past the child growing inside of Pansy. And even then, after all this effort, what if she still died trying to have her own children?

As much as she loved—was that really how she felt?—Pansy, it still pained her to know that the older woman was a major cause of the destruction of her relationship with Draco. Or was it possible that Draco would always have cheated on her and impregnated someone else instead? Still, though, most women in that position wouldn't have shown up at Malfoy Manor with the lady of the house sitting right on the couch across from her as she announced the consequences of what Draco had done. Only Pansy would do such a thing.

Sighing, Astoria returned to the conversation just in time to be asked her opinion on Pansy's poor decisions for dinner. Not that Astoria really cared, considering she'd never actually eat curry—there was no vegetarian option at the Indian place near their home. But at the least it was a great distraction from the burning regret and despair regarding everything that had occurred in the last six months. She would do anything to put it out of mind.

 _Happy birthday to me_ , she thought bitterly. Would things get better? They _had_ to get better. Her twentieth birthday could not be spent like this.


	43. Happy Birthday, Mr Malfoy

_Dear M Malfoy,_

 _Your three-year ban on the use of magic will end on 5 June, 2001. On this date, the pieces of your wand will be returned to you and you shall be allowed to purchase a new one from Ollivander's in Diagon Alley—_ NOWHERE ELSE IS ALLOWED! _Your Apparating license shall also be renewed and delivered to you on the same date as listed above. On the last Friday of every month, you will be visited by a member of the Ministry to ensure that you are not engaging in any acts of illegal magic, a process that will continue until the Minister for Magic determines that such an action is no longer considered necessary._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Audrey Gilmore Weasley_

 _Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic_

And with that, a three-year long torturous affair was over. He turned twenty-one, received the three snapped remains of his wand from an angry horn owl that nipped at Draco's fingers when he took the package from the bird.

There was no fanfare, no party, no bells or whistles to announce that everything had changed. He was suddenly a functioning member of society once more, if with some stipulations still attached to his release. Not he'd been expecting anything less from this Ministry that still conducted regular raids, showing no trust at all for the family of former Death Eaters, even with most of them still locked behind bars for several more years.

With the note from the Ministry in hand, he headed over to Ollivander's with more than just a touch of hesitation in his step, recalling the months that Ollivander spent in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, those rooms Draco still could not compel himself to look into. Would the old man even be willing to sell Draco a wand? If not, he was pretty much out of luck considering the Ministry had very strictly forbidden him from going anywhere else.

Luckily—or possibly not, depending on how things turned out—it was not Ollivander behind the counter but instead a woman in her seventies with long grey hair and a stern downturn to her mouth that reminded Draco of McGonagall.

She took the letter from him and read through it quickly, her eyes speeding from the top of the page to the very bottom so quickly he suspected she'd barely read it at all. The woman let out a small 'hmph' when she reached the Ministry official's signature and handed the letter back to Draco before turning away to pull out wands.

"My name is Giselle Ollivander; I work here with my younger brother, taking over the store after my father passed away two years ago following... _complications_ of his illness. And don't think I don't know about what your family did to my father, that you're the cause of his death. However, a customer is a customer and a wand is in need of a wizard no matter how despicable that wizard might be." With that, she disappeared amongst the tall shelves containing thousands upon thousands of different wands.

After a few long minutes in which Draco breathed in what he believed to be a lifetime of dust, Ms Ollivander returned with a stack of roughly a dozen different boxes.

"Now from my father's notes, your last wand purchased from him was a twenty-five centimetre hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair purchased on the first of August in 1991. You appeared to overall favour more flexible wands, indicating a willingness to change and adapt, though there is an underlying desire to remain strict and exactly in line with how you have been led to believe." At his raised eyebrows, she stated, "My father's notes are very detailed and full of pondering that likely have no basis in reality. Now, shall we begin?"

Having been handed a wand, Draco gave it a swish as he recalled doing for the first time a decade prior, but the stick only sparked pitifully, refusing to comply with his demands. Quickly, this wand was replaced by another one, and then a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth wand. As he snatched the seventh one from Ms Ollivander, Draco couldn't help but scowl and grumble under his breath, wondering if she had intentionally provided only wands that did not fit him.

But as he gave this newest wand a wave, there was a warmth that ran down the length of his arm to the tips of his fingers. Fireworks rained from the end of the stick, sparkling and shaping themselves into a serpent that wriggled and danced around for several seconds before fading away into nothing, leaving behind only the shadow of their beauty.

"Ah. Thirty-three and a half centimetres, fir wood, and a phoenix feather core. Supple and just as I anticipated, quite flexible. Congratulations on your new wand, Mr Malfoy. I hope you're very proud of yourself for all of this."

Her tone implied that she hoped he was anything else as she glared at him, packing up the wand in its box once more, money being exchanged between the two of them. There was a pause before she handed over the new wand where Draco wondered if Ms Ollivander would refuse to give it to him but then the box was being shoved into his hands rather forcefully, causing Draco to stumble a few steps away from the counter, caught off guard.

When Draco didn't immediately leave, Ms Ollivander snapped, "Well? I've finished my business here with you, I'm not obligated to allow you to patron my store any longer than you already have and your presence will only scare customers off. The Ministry may expect me to give you a wand once more but for the sake of my father, I will not suffer a Death Eater to stand in my shop even a second longer than is necessary."

Shrugging and seeing no reason to really stay, Draco shuffled out of the store and back onto the main street of Diagon Alley, taking his new wand from its box, which he tossed into a nearby bin, and set off down the street, all the while wondering if there would ever be a time when he could be in public without feeling the glares of everyone around him.

As he headed towards The Leaky Cauldron, he spotted several familiar figures sitting outside the recently re-opened Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, eating ice cream and joking around, seemingly without a care in the world.

There were two brunettes and that annoying dark hair of Tracey Zabini. His two ex-fiancées and their stupid friend were all sitting together, laughing and unbothered by any suspicious looks from passers-by. Pansy was very heavily pregnant and the hand not spooning ice cream into her mouth was holding Astoria's free hand. The two women shared a long look as Pansy said something quietly to the younger female, making her throw back her head in laughter.

It was obvious that Astoria had forgotten all about him, moving past their break-up in favour of spending time with bloody Pansy Parkinson, that woman who had completely ruined his life. They had each other—Draco's existence was less than an afterthought for the two women.

Letting Astoria go had been the correct decision, there was no doubt about it; she was happier without him, living a life free of his influence. Clearly, things were better for her when Draco wasn't around to bully her and yell at her every other day.

With a sigh, he turned away and continued making his way towards The Leaky Cauldron, Apparating just outside of the tavern with a small turn of his heel. Wearing a solemn expression, he appeared on the edges of Malfoy Manor, his shoulders slumping and feeling a pressure beginning to build just behind his eyes. As though the universe itself was now laughing at his misery, rain began to pour over him, leaving Draco drenched and feeling no desire to head inside. He deserved to be soaking wet at that moment, his brain told him.

Why did he even feel that way? Astoria was just one in a much longer line of women and he didn't even really want to be married to her— _right_? They didn't work together and she looked so much happier with Pansy, so why did he feel a strange pain in his chest when thinking of a future spent without Astoria Greengrass? Surely he wasn't... _falling in love with her_? He didn't do that sort of thing, letting emotions and sappy sentimentality control his life.

The front doors of the Manor were flung open, his mother stepping out to make her way towards Draco as she called out to him in concern upon noticing that he wasn't moving out of the rain. But Draco stayed where he was, seeing no point in going inside. Once again, the roof was looking like a nice place to climb up to and take a short step off of.

"What's going on, darling? What's going on, what's wrong?" His mother placed her hands on his cheeks, looking him over for cuts or bruises, any sign that he had been attacked. Upon finding nothing of the sort, she wrapped an arm tightly around his waist and ushered the young man back into the house, still pressing him for an explanation for why he was just standing outside in the rain looking like a sad little boy.

After casting a Drying Spell over her son, Narcissa came to the realisation that it wasn't just the rain covering his face—Draco had also been crying, a fact that might have been hidden by the pouring rain outside, serving as a mask for what he was doing and how he felt in the moment, but was now uncovered by the puffiness of his eyes, the redness of his nose and cheeks, and the way he sniffled and avoided her gaze.

After all, Draco hated for anyone to see him in a moment of weakness, even his own mother. To show emotion, to show weakness, was the ultimate disgrace.

Turning his head away from her, Draco shut his eyes tightly and wished he could disappear. He hadn't cried in front of another person in years, not since that fateful incident with Potter in the girls' toilets during his sixth year.

Choking out the words, he told his mother, "I don't want to talk about it, Mother, please don't ask anything of me. Just leave me be, I beg you, don't ask me."

Thankfully Narcissa did as he said, casting one last Drying Spell before backing away, choosing to instead change the subject. "Did you get your wand at least? I saw the broken pieces on the table in the foyer—what kind of a birthday present is that meant to be? ' _Happy birthday, Mr Malfoy, here's the destroyed remains of what makes you a wizard'._ But what else should we expect from this new Ministry other than disrespect after disrespect? As though we didn't nearly single-handedly fund the Ministry for so many decades. But we are nothing in this world now."

"New Minister, new Ministry, new everything. It's only been three years, but do you recognise anything around us these days, Mother? Potter and his cronies rule the world, our fortune has shrunk—how could we have expected something like this, a fate that many would consider to be worse than death, a kind of social death. Father still has another year in Azkaban and I'm no closer to being married than I was last year or the year before. I mean, what's the bloody point in all this?" Draco threw his hands up in frustration, groaning. "Did you know that I'll still have to be surveyed monthly for the foreseeable future to ensure that I'm not doing anything illegal? My sentence has ended but the punishment never will because there will never be a day that the Ministry trusts me! And—and—and…Astoria!"

In that second, Draco was crying all over again, burying his face in his hands as Narcissa looked on, unsure of how to react. Her son had stopped having tantrums a very long time ago, even earlier than she thought was normal. The man was usually so reserved, calm, cool, and collected to the point where his outburst startled her.

"Would it help if I spoke to your uncle about doing something regarding your contract? I know his wife is an aunt of Astoria's and Lucille was fairly close to the girl during their school days. Surely one of them could speak to Astoria, to convince her to return as your fiancée? Or else Haffrey might be willing to tear up the contract altogether if that's what you'd prefer?"

Poor, innocent Mother, who knew nothing of the plots being concocted right behind her back. Of course, Uncle Haffrey would never do such a thing because he wanted to benefit from Draco's downfall. The only way to escape this hell was for his uncle to die, but Draco was no killer—his inaction towards Professor Dumbledore proved that much. Haffrey was a healthy man in his early forties with likely a very long life still ahead of him. It wouldn't even be that shocking if he outlived Draco just to be the ultimate winner.

"No, no," he said glumly, brushing away the traitorous tears that were threatening to undo him further. "There's no point in bothering him over something that doesn't involve my uncle to begin with. I'll find a way to make things better somehow. I don't want to involve Uncle Haffrey, not when it's my fault this is all happening."

Mother made a small, indiscernible noise but nodded anyway, giving Draco a gentle pat on the back and leaving him to his own thoughts. He remained there by the front doors of the Manor, not knowing what else to do and thus choosing to remain where he was, imagining a world where he had not impregnated Pansy, hadn't let Astoria just walk out his life possibly forever. But a world in which he wasn't a failure was not the sort of thing he could readily imagine.

So instead he eventually left to go sit silently in the drawing room where he had watched so many people suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord and his own family, all people that he could have helped but never did anything for fear of the consequences.

He was a failure—he had always been a failure and would die one as well. It was just his fate in life, a matter of fact that Draco finally accepted. After all this time, Draco was able to see himself in the same light that the rest of the world did, as someone who deserved nothing but the worst things that life had to offer because he offered nothing back to the world.

Worse than being worthless, he was a complete and utter failure.


	44. Things Will Work Out

_**The following chapter describes graphic violence and death. Please proceed with caution.**_

* * *

Standing over Haffrey Malfoy's sleeping form, Pansy held her lit wand aloft, briefly glancing up to see Astoria on the other side of the bed, casting _Petrificus Totalus_ over her aunt and forcing a sleeping draught down the woman's throat, not wanting Drisella to wake up in the middle of her husband's murder and cause a ruckus.

Pansy herself slowly pulled the pillow out from underneath the frozen form of Haffrey Malfoy, placing it over his nose and mouth to block off his ability to breath. It would be far easier to use the Killing Curse or poison the man but both methods were far more easily traceable and poison could be combatted before he was dead. A suffocation, if done correctly, could be made to look like an accident and had no magical signature tied to it.

What she hadn't anticipated was how long it took to smother someone; in all of Julia's Muggle films, such a death was quick and easy, taking only moments at the longest. But she stood with the pillow for what felt like forever until she suddenly felt Haffrey struggling underneath her, waking up as the freezing charm wore off. Astoria, seeing his movement, rushing to the other side of the bed to help increase the weight over her uncle's airway, the two of them working together to snuff out what remained of his life.

Another thing they hadn't anticipated? The smell that followed after Haffrey finally did die as his body relieved itself one final time, letting out a pathetic little rattle and then falling silent permanently. He was gone forever, just a remnant of an obstacle that had once been in the way but would no longer bother them.

As Pansy pulled the pillow away, Astoria turned to avoid looking at the body, vomiting onto the floor in disgust. She could hardly imagine that what they'd just done was real as her heart pounded intensely and she felt light on her feet, beginning to sway back and forth.

"Sit," insisted Pansy, conjuring a chair and Vanishing the sick from the floor, placing the pillow back underneath Haffrey's head as she levitated his body and turned him over. The man's death seemed to have quite little impact on the older woman, whose face was mildly flushed but otherwise remained neutral.

They remained there for several minutes longer, Astoria trying to recover her nerves while Pansy bustled around putting everything back in its proper place, making it appear as though they'd never been there at all.

Finally, when Astoria was ready to go, Pansy Banished the chair as well as making her way over to Drisella, taking the spells off of her and quickly muting the magical signature she'd left behind. Thankfully there were years of spells in the house to mask what they'd done.

With everything back in its place, the two left out the way they'd come in, grateful that the wards were set to allow Astoria in and out without a problem. Holding hands, the duo Apparated to the outside of Julia's flat, Obliviating the drunkard that gaped up at them in bewilderment at the sight of two young women appearing from nowhere.

"Well?" asked Julia as they came into the flat. She was holding Pansy's three week old son, bouncing the infant up and down to make the boy stop fussing. "I'm assuming by the fact that your wizard cops aren't bursting through the doors right now that things went well?"  
"Yes—give me Asterion, will you? I need to hold someone right now to calm my nerves. I've never done anything like this before, you know. Oh, even worse, Astoria was sick after the fact. I had to Vanish all of it before we left or else there'd be evidence. Oh, hello baby, how are you? Did you miss your mummy?"

"I still can't believe you named him Asterion. What kind of name is that? I hope that's the sort of thing that children in the wizarding world are commonly called or else the poor boy's going to get beaten up quite a lot."

Stepping away from the overly casual banter of the two older women, Astoria snatched up the pin from the kitchen and settled herself on the sofa, still feeling her stomach churning from nerves over what they had done.

A man was now dead because of Astoria—because of Pansy—and all because of her desire, obsession, whatever it was she felt for Draco. Her willingness to do anything for the man had made it very clear that he cared for her either very little or not at all; Astoria had killed a man for Draco and he wouldn't even send her a letter.

Yet beyond feeling nauseous about her actual actions, there was no guilt surrounding her, no feeling that she'd really done anything wrong, because as far as she saw the likes of Haffrey Malfoy, he'd only ever been an obstacle and a particularly obscene one at that.

What they had done was necessary—not even a necessary evil, really. How many people died every day for lesser causes than the sake of love? Why should someone like Haffrey Malfoy be allowed to have the happy ending at the expense of her own happiness, her own sense of fulfilment? There was no reason he should be allowed to win, and so there was no guilt for her actions.

Throwing up into the bin, Astoria felt her head spin from the weight of everything that occurred in the last hour, the implications of her actions. If they were caught, a lifetime with Draco would be replaced with a lifetime spent in a dark spell in Azkaban.

 _No, no_ , Astoria told herself strictly and shook her head. They would not be caught because there was no evidence that anyone had ever been there. Haffrey appeared for all intents and purposes to merely have suffocated in the night, rolling over and blocking his own airways while deep asleep, unable to save himself.

They would be fine. Everything would be fine. It _had_ to be fine. After all, things done for love would always work out if one tried hard enough.

Right?

* * *

When Serbius, his sixteen year old cousin, owled Draco asking if the two males could have a discussion, he had no idea what it was that even needed to be talked about seeing as he hadn't formally spoken to the boy in several years despite their purported closeness as young boys.

But go he did, Apparating to his uncle's house and taking pride in his ability to do so. He was greeted at the door by a teary-eyed Guinevere, who appeared to not have bathed or changed clothes in several days based on her unkempt appearance.

Uncle Haffrey—dead for three days. Serbius, who knew that Draco would come by with a demand to change the contract eventually, had chosen to supersede that moment by inviting Draco over to discuss the matter and avoid confrontation.

"Do you know how he died?" Draco asked this boy, who had been dragged up to the head of his family with absolutely no warning. "Has anyone performed an autopsy or at least called a Healer? I thought Uncle to be a rather healthy man."

Serbius, face expressionless, blinked rapidly in Draco's direction, not showing any other sign of a reaction for a long moment, instead choosing to usher the older male towards his father's desk, where a large stack of paper was waiting for both of them.

"My father never did set an actual wedding date, did he? Perhaps it's about time we go about correcting that, huh? I wouldn't want you to have to suffer any longer than you already have." He pulled out the wedding contract from his stack of papers, shoving them across the desk towards Draco. Looking down, he saw that the dates listed for the wedding remained blank, just waiting for something to be written down.

Frowning, Draco chose to look back up and maintain eye contact with his younger cousin, still confused about the timing of it all. "You'd need to get Mrs Greengrass to sign off on this, something she would need to be here for with us. There's no point in having this meeting right now without her." He brushed the contract back at Serbius, knowing that Mrs Greengrass would never agree to such a thing as handing over her oldest surviving child to Draco for the rest of their lives.

"Yes. Let me see...yes, here it is." Serbius pulled out a second document, a notarised signature from Sophronia Carina Greengrass stating that any date as settled upon by Serbius Artemius Malfoy was acceptable for all parties involved on the Greengrass side. "See? So whatever date it is that you want, I'll write it down and everything will be completely fine. You have the freedom to pick whenever you want." He shoved the contract back at Draco, who finally chose to really _look_ at the contract for the first time.

 _Any date that he wanted_. How long had he been waiting for a day such as this, even though it meant the death of his uncle? Only a few months ago, he'd been lamenting his fate of never being able to marry and now here he was, finally able to do as he pleased with the contract set right in front of him, just waiting for a date.

It would have to be a date set after his father was released from Azkaban or else there would be great hell to pay, so he wouldn't be able to pick anything prior to the eleventh of June of next year, but they also didn't need Lucius to help plan out the wedding itself so any time after his release would be completely acceptable. A date soon enough after Father's return but with enough time in between for him to recover and recuperate.

Smirking, Draco wrote out the day he had in mind and handed the contract back to Serbius, letting the boy look over what had been written down and then signed his own name, Banishing the paper off to a cabinet labelled ' _weddings_ '.

"Well, I suppose you have a runaway bride to go chase down, huh? Astoria ought to be happy to know something's finally been settled between the two of you."

Despite the positivity to his words, Serbius' tone was sombre and Draco had to remember that all of this was possible only because a man had died. Yet though he could see the sadness in his cousin's face and the way that his shoulders slumped inwards, Draco himself could not actually feel any real sympathy for the death in question. His uncle had been an awful, conniving man that slept around with women half his age and gambled away much of the family funds; Serbius would be a much better face for the family, someone Draco could actually negotiate with.

But he also knew that it would be rude of him to leave without at least saying some kind of condolences so as he stood up and reached to shake Serbius' hand, he told the boy, "I am sorry for your loss, dear cousin. Of course Uncle Haffrey will be greatly missed by all those who knew him. I wish he had been given a lifetime twice as long."

Serbius looked at him for several moments as the two shook hands before finally moving his head back and forth and replying, "You don't have to lie to me, Draco. I know that you never much cared for my father while he was alive and I shouldn't expect you to have any affection for him now just because he's dead. Now please, go to your fiancée and let me know that at least someone is getting something good out of all the tragedy of today."

Such a young boy shouldn't sound so mature in his morose nature, but Draco did as was requested and departed from his cousin's home, shoving his hands into his pockets as he tried to think of where Astoria would be hiding out. Obviously she was with Pansy but for the life of him, Draco couldn't recall the flat he visited while in a drunken stupor.

Surely Pansy would still have an owl for what few friends she had, so he decided that the wisest thing to do was go home and send off a letter with his own owl, hoping the bird would be smart enough to figure out where she was even without an actual address.

Until he received a response, though, Draco at least had the knowledge that things were finally going to be set right and go back to how they ought to be. Astoria had to know the best option was to take the path of a good life, particularly when it was being dangled right in front of her. She couldn't be foolish enough to deny him now that they had a true date set for their wedding. He had done so much for her; she hadn't even written a letter to him during her absence.

Still with a smirk on his face, Draco set about writing his letter for Astoria. No longer would he have to suffer longings of jumping off the roof of Malfoy Manor. Finally he was going to live the life he was always meant to have, with a beautiful bride by his side.

Things were going to work out.

Right?


	45. The Year Between

When Astoria walked back into his life, Draco felt his pulse speed up. There she was, standing at the front doors of the Malfoy Manor and in that moment, he thought he understood why men once went to war for the women they loved. He felt his cheeks flush and his cheeks were clammy even as he tried to maintain the cold, stony expression on his face, the one that said he didn't care about anyone or anything, least of all this woman that abandoned him.

But internally every part of him was screaming that he'd been a fool for ever letting her leave. Nine months of being apart made Astoria more than just attractive to him—she was beautiful, not that he was likely to ever say such a thing out loud. His head spun at the sight of her, this woman that finally, officially, would be able to become his wife.

Setting her bags down, Astoria held up her hand for him to kiss before sighing. "Well? I'm guessing by the pink in your cheeks that you missed me at least a little bit."

"And it would seem your absence made you even mouthier than the last time we saw each other. Careful about that lest I divorce you before we're even married." But he smirked, indicating for the house elves to take Astoria's things inside and up to her room. "What did she name the bloody thing after all that? I never did see anything in the papers about a birth announcement of any sort."

She snickered, pulling out a photograph to show Draco a blond infant that merely laid on his blanket and stared motionlessly up at the camera—a Muggle photograph, then. "His name is Asterion Hawthorne Parkinson if you can believe it. Kid'll likely get beat up in primary for that sort of nonsense. But Pansy seems to love the name and I suppose he could always go by something shorter, like Aster or Ri."

It was going to come as quite a shock for her, them, when the two of them finally had children. Thought that was a conversation for another day, seeing as they still had eleven months until they were even getting married.

A silence fell over them, neither quite sure what to say even after the long nine months in which they hadn't spoken once. But how were they expected to act like everything was perfect and things were still comfortable between the two of them? What was there to even say?

Together, they headed into the Manor, silently side by side as the left behind the outside world. Things would get better for them—they _had_ to.

* * *

During the Christmas holidays, he could sense that there was something that Astoria wanted to ask him and he strongly suspected that he knew what it was, but neither of them brought it up, refusing to address the hippogriff in the room.

Christmas consisted of a ball, with several dozen families invited so that the first floor of Malfoy Manor was flooded with the highest class of people. Draco and Astoria mingled amongst all of their guests, shaking hands and reminding people that the wedding was only six months away and to make sure they had reserved a seat for the event.

He spotted Violet from across the room, looking resplendent in a floor-length glittering blue dress that made it look like water was flowing off of her shoulders and down her back. She was free of her children and he couldn't seem to spot her husband anywhere nearby.

Violet smiled at him, waving in his direction and in his brain sparked an urge to walk over and speak to her again but then he turned his head to see the sparkle in Astoria's eyes as she greeted people, introducing herself as Draco's fiancée with such enthusiasm. How could he betray her again by taking off in front of all these people?

So he stayed away from Violet, keeping his attention on Astoria the whole night, even offering to dance with her for several songs, including a slow romantic number that he normally wouldn't be caught dead dancing to.

Later in the night, as the older guests drifted back to their homes or into the garden to drink, Draco found himself dancing with Bryony Runcorn—or Goyle, though it still baffled him to see anyone being married to Gregory Goyle of all people.

The two spun round and round as she confessed that less than two years into her marriage and with one child already born, she couldn't stand to be in the same room as her husband for more than a few minutes at a time.

"He hits me if I argue with him at all or even give the slightest of indications that I disagree with him," she confessed as Draco spun her away from him, though he said nothing because there was nothing to say. Of course Goyle was going to treat his young wife in such a way; he could offer her no advice and very little sympathy either.

So they kept dancing in silence until Gregory drunkenly called out for Bryony to join him, glaring when she didn't immediately move to his side.

Watching the girl leave, Draco said nothing, letting Bryony walk away from him. Then, turning away, he left to find Astoria, wanting to give her a kiss on the cheek and inform her of how beautiful she looked under the faery lights.

* * *

"I want to actually wear the ring as it was meant to be worn," she told him softly over dinner one night, just the two of them as Mother was off who knew where in the world, preparing for the wedding with her new best friend, Mrs Greengrass. "No more wearing it as a necklace—I want people to know that we truly are together no matter what's happened between the two of us. I want everyone in the world to know I'm yours. And..."

"You want me to wear the matching ring to serve as a reminder that I am also yours?" He raised his eyebrows in his direction, one hand moving to run his fingers over the heavy ring that had been sitting in his pocket since Christmas.

Nodding, she said in an almost pleading tone, "Nothing else would make me happier. I want to know that things are finally going right for us and that ring helps to show that you've chosen to stick to our commitment. Not...not that I don't trust you, of course, but it will certainly keep away any loose women searching for a wealthy man. They'll see the ring and know that you can't be claimed because someone else already has."

He slid the ring out from his pocket and placed it on his finger, watching with just a hint of amusement as she undid the chain from around her neck and did the same thing with the family ring he had given her so long ago. Somehow, seeing the sight of it wrapped around her thin, delicate finger, he knew that this was the right thing. The ring would not belong to someone like Pansy or Violet; no, it was meant for someone beautiful and clever and commanding and delicate, someone like Astoria Greengrass.

"I love you, you know," he blurted out before he could stop himself. The words tumbled from his mouth and he did nothing to try to catch them as they fell onto the empty space of the dinner table between them. "I don't know for how long, but I know it's true as of right now and that's really all that matters, isn't it? I love you and I want you to be my wife."

"I love you, too, Draco. I don't think I can express how grateful I am that you chose me of all the women that you could have picked from. I know times have been tough, but surely the worst is now behind us? We can only grow stronger from here."

 _We can only grow stronger._

* * *

At four months remaining until the wedding, they sat down with Mrs Greengrass and Mother, finalising the remainder of the details and the guest list, settling on the seemingly massive number of people who would gather to see the young couple finally get married.

"IS five hundred people really an appropriate amount?" he asked in bewilderment, staring down at all the names, ranging from cousins to distant family friends to people whose names he barely recognised. "Who's Tilda Parkinson, for instance? I wasn't aware we were inviting Parkinsons to the wedding now."  
Sophronia Greengrass leaned over to tap the name with a perfectly manicured fingernail, explaining, "That's a cousin of mine, actually. We used to be close and she still is Astoria's godmother. It would be seen as the height of rudeness to not invite her."

The idea of all these near strangers at what was meant to be an intimate moment did not appeal to Draco in the slightest and judging by Astoria's disgruntled expression, she felt much the same way but there wasn't really a whole lot that could actually be done as the mothers had officially taken over the majority of the wedding planning ages ago.

Whoever Mother and Mrs Greengrass wanted to welcome to the wedding would find themselves in attendance no matter how Draco felt about the matter so was there really even a point in fighting about the guest list? Instead, he fell silent, listening to the older women as they continued making their way through the guest list, though he turned his head to look at Astoria, admiring the way the sunlight made her hair seem surrounded by a halo.

Apparently noticing that she was being observed, Astoria glanced over at him, smiling softly and taking his hand in her own. They had been reunited for six months, working to repair their relationship and do their best to make sure that things never went the way they had two Novembers ago. That could _not_ happen again.

Things may not be repaired—and there were still days when they could not sit at the dining table together or when talk quickly petered out into an awkward silence of abandoned conversations, wondering if it was simply better to walk back to their respective rooms and avoid each other for the rest of the day.

But the important thing was that they _were_ working to make things better. They wanted to be happy and together they were striving to improve their relationship. Hopefully, with time, things would only get even better.

* * *

On the day before his father was to be released from Azkaban, Draco took Astoria out to the fields just behind his family home, away from the chaos that had completely overtaken the Manor with only just over a month left until the wedding.

They sat together in the grass, eating sandwiches and discussing cloud shapes and baby names, pretending as though everything they knew wasn't about to change completely.

She reached out to take his hand and Draco allowed her to, taking in a deep breath as he enjoyed the moment. A cloud flitted across the sky, blocking the sun and casting a shadow over the young couple. One day, he told her quietly, they would have a son who would grow up in these fields, learning to play Quidditch during the day and memorise the names of every star in the sky during the night time."

"He can also learn to play Muggle football and we can teach him all about how to be a better person than either of us are." Astoria tilted her head up to face the sun, soaking in the rays as the clouds passed out of the way.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco watched Astoria reach up towards the sky briefly before letting her hands fall down across his chest. He reached up to hold it, running his fingers over the smoothness of her skin and taking in the smell of cherries.

"How do you feel about tomorrow? You've not seen your father out of prison in four years, that must bring up a lot of odd feelings, a lot of old memories. How are you handling everything?"

Shrugging, Draco let go of her hand as he pushed himself into a sitting position, suddenly feeling very small and ill. He'd known that his father was less than twenty-four hours away from departing Azkaban for good, but he'd mostly tried to keep that thought squashed, not wanting to think about how much of his life could still go wrong.

Father wouldn't be allowed to take over the Malfoy family fortune again as per his sentencing but anyone who knew Lucius Malfoy knew he wouldn't just hand over control to his son though Draco would remain the face of the family, it was likely to be Lucius who was secretly running things behind the scenes, as Draco had always suspected would happen.

Without responding to her question, he got to his feet, pulling Astoria up as well, muttering to her, "We've been out here long enough, don't you think? Our mothers are almost certainly worried by now or will start being so soon enough and I wouldn't want to stress Mother in such a way, not with her health still the way it is."

The couple, hand in hand, made their way back towards Malfoy Manor, still enjoying the light breeze that pulled at the ends of Astoria's hair, making her look like something out of a myth, like some kind of Greek goddess making her way through the grass on her way into the battle to defeat any remaining enemies that dared oppose her.

How had he not noticed that Astoria had grown so much stronger and braver than he could ever imagine? There was a sense of courage to her features that he hadn't seen a year ago. What had changed in that time that she was able to move with such confidence?

"What?" she asked, seeing the dopey looking expression on his face. "Is there something wrong with my face? What are you looking at me for like that?"  
Shaking his head, Draco replied, "Have I ever told you that you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen? I feel like I don't tell that nearly often enough for you to understand just how beautiful you are."

She blushed and looked away, but he could see the small grin on her face and internally, he felt himself warm up to know he'd made her feel happy for even just a moment.

Finally, things were getting better for the young couple.


	46. The Return of Lucius Malfoy

The front doors of Malfoy Manor opened to reveal Lucius Malfoy himself, dressed in a set of robes too shabby to ever belong to him, serving as one last slap in the face from the Ministry before sending him home by refusing him the right to wear his own clothing upon being set free, claiming there wasn't 'enough time' to bring him his belongings.

He was greeted by his wife, son, and a thin waifish girl with dark hair and big green eyes. Presumably, this was the child that was meant to become his daughter-in-law, the young Astoria Greengrass. Suffice it to say that Lucius was not particularly impressed by what he was looking at, recalling the older—albeit deceased—Greengrass daughter to be far sturdier, rather than this sickly looking creature, so small that one well-timed curse could do her in.

But the decision had largely been made without him and with less than a month until the wedding, it wasn't exactly the best time to begin debating the merits of keeping his daughter-in-law around as the mother of the future heirs to the family.

"Welcome home, Father," Draco said as the front doors closed behind Lucius, making a hollow sound that echoed around the foyer and causing the Greengrass girl to jump, clearly having not expected such a loud clanging noise. "Bobbily, Missy, go fetch Father some of his robes from upstairs. What he has on at the moment simply will not do."

His precious wife stepped forward to kiss Lucius on the cheek and hold him tightly before pulling away to eye him up and down. He also took the time to look her over, seeing the grey in Narcissa's hair, the dramatic loss in weight that had escaped his notice during her visits to Azkaban. He'd been so preoccupied with his imprisonment then but now, as a free man with nothing else to focus on, he couldn't help but notice the shadow of a woman that stood before him.

It was almost certainly true that he looked ten times worse, an idea that scared him greatly as Lucius' handsome features even into his forties had always been a great source of pride for the man, knowing that he had aged respectably.

His attention turned to Astoria Greengrass once more, looking the girl over and wondering how such a pitiful creature had been chosen to carry on the Malfoy line. Everyone knew how sickly the Greengrass children tended to be, carrying a deadly curse from one generation to the next. How could Draco have overlooked this factor when choosing his new bride? This was an oversight that certainly would not have happened if Lucius were still in charge of the family.

But unfortunately, he'd been a tad busy being stuck in a small cell in Azkaban, unable to direct his son in the right direction. Such mistakes would have to be suffered because at this point there was nothing else that really could be done.

One month left until the wedding—was his son really ready for the life of a married man? Lucius thought such a thing unlikely.

"Am I to assume that this is the young Miss Greengrass who will soon be joining our family?" Lucius kissed the child's hand but there was no interest to his motions. "I must say, Miss Greengrass, you look much like your mother did when she was your age. I suspect that you'll be considered a great beauty even in your twilight years."

This was not true in the slightest, but Lucius didn't care, even if it was completely obvious to anyone with eyes that he was lying—the girl looked nothing at all like her mother. But why _should_ he care, considering that telling the truth of how he felt about the world and acting on those truths was what had landed him in Azkaban in the first place?

Astoria smiled placidly at him but the second he released his grip, she was back to hiding behind Draco as though he could do anything to protect the girl.

And why should Draco be expected to do anything for her against his own father, who Draco knew to protect and defend before anyone else? It was foolish of the girl to assume that she could rely on anything at all from Draco when it came to his father.

They moved further into the house, where the house elves handed Lucius his robes—still several years out of style, but at least not in complete tatters—and he ducked into the toilet to change into the nicer clothing before coming back out, allowing the others to admire what he was wearing for several moments before ushering them into the next room.

As a quartet—the three Malfoys and Astoria Greengrass—they sat down in the dining room to enjoy the meal that had been set out for them.

With a level of disgust, Lucius watched as the Greengrass girl accepted only meals containing no meat of any kind and instead chose to eat such things as salad and a mushroom soup made specifically for her while the Malfoys ate the _actual_ meal of pork roast and chicken salad; she also rejected a glass of wine, settling instead for pumpkin juice. The pathetic meal made him horrified to think of what sort of meals the Malfoy Manor would serve once Astoria officially took over running the house from Narcissa.

"So...do you not like the food that my wife chose for the meal tonight or do you simply just have an issue with any sort of dish that involves meat? I know I haven't been here for four very long years but last time I checked, civilised people eat meat rather than dining on rabbit food alone. You certainly won't have healthy offspring on a diet so pitiful as this, I can assure you of that. Someone of your situation ought to be doing whatever you can to ensure that your children come out as healthy as possible and eating such a pathetically minimalistic diet will only hurt your chances of giving our family an heir."

There was a twitch in her cheeks as everyone stopped eating and fell wholly silent; Astoria's gaze snapped to focus on Draco, biting her lip and making a face of great concern as though waiting for something to happen.

Draco awkwardly cleared his throat but said nothing to either his future bride or his father, choosing instead to stare at his plate full of food rather than engage in anything that was about to happen, lest he was dragged onto one side or the other.

Scraping her silverware across her plate, Astoria quietly replied, "Well I suppose it hadn't occurred to Draco tell you with everything that's been happening the last few years but I'm actually a vegetarian and have been one since I was thirteen when it was recommended as a method to keep my health in a good place. So I don't actually eat meat nor have I done so in a long while. In fact, it was suggested to me that _not_ eating fatty meats would actually be better for pregnancies and delivering healthy children, as long as I take the proper potions the whole time."

"Hmm..." Lucius turned to look at Draco, who continued to stare down at his plate. "I suppose my son _has_ failed in his duty to explain to you how things are meant to be in this household? Or are you deliberately refraining from realising that in this home we don't eat the sort of trash that is given to rabbits or worse, house elves?"

"Oh, no, he t-told me about that rather forcefully, believe me, he certainly did his best to attempt to sway me into disavowing my morals but..." She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry to say that just isn't going to happen—I won't eat meat just because you think that what I'm doing goes against the rules for your family. it's against my beliefs."

Another silence fell over the group as Lucius mulled over what the child had said, partially impressed by the gall she had to speak her mind and stand her ground, but also feeling a sense of anger simmering just underneath the surface at being told off by a little girl who didn't know anything about how the world actually worked. It was impressed to see how bold she was but he also didn't like being argued with.

"Hm," Lucius said again, still focusing on Draco, who seemed to be trying to find out how far down into his chair he could actually slump and still be able to scarf food into his mouth. "I don't suppose you have anything to contribute to this conversation, young man?"

The boy who was meant to be the name and face of the Malfoy family shook his head and continued staring at his plate like it would somehow rescue him from this situation. On the other side of the table, Astoria nervously picked at her salad.

After a minute of this awkwardness, he realised that he wasn't going to get anything else out of them and instead chose to change the subject. Lucius began to eat his food as he asked Draco, "So how soon is this wedding going to be? I've been free for three whole hours now and no one's told me a single thing about the upcoming nuptials. I would have expected at least a short speech about the floral centrepieces or the sort of robes I'm expected to wear on this most special of occasions. Surely the two of you are excited to finally be married after all this time?"

"Oh, the...er...the thirteenth of next month is the date we eventually...I mean, the one that I picked out for us. I thought it would be best to wait until you were out of prison before we even thought about getting married. It wouldn't be fair to leave you out of the celebrations, after all, Father."

"So this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Miss Parkinson is currently running around with a one year old that looks suspiciously like you? Or did I mishear the facts of the situation that began brewing while I was locked away?"

His cheeks growing red, Draco stopped eating and chose to instead fiddle with his forks. "I—I—I...the boy..." He glanced over to Astoria, who was pointedly not looking at him. "I lay no claim to the child, no matter what Pansy may say about the matter. The child might have come from me, but my inability to marry Astoria began to manifest itself long before then—Uncle Haffrey held my end of the contract as a hostage right up until the day he died."

Lucius thought of his own illegitimate children, how for so many years he had pretended the two didn't exist in order to protect his son's claim to the Malfoy name lest their mother try to put Philip above the legally born Draco in the order of who inherited the name. If Draco wasn't careful, he would find himself in the exact same situation with Pansy Parkinson.

"Very well," Lucius said as he continued tearing at his dinner with a fork and knife. "I don't suppose there's enough time to purchase a nicer set of robes for myself than what I currently have? All of my clothing is several years out of date by this point and I won't be shamed by the guests because I showed up to the wedding in what amounts to mere cast-offs for a much poorer man than myself deserves."

"I don't see why that can't be managed within the time frame we have. It would be a shame if the father of the groom wasn't wearing his personal best clothing." Narcissa smiled pleasantly at him and indicated for one of the elves to send off a letter to the family's personal tailor.

They continued eating and fell silent as Lucius wondered how much things had changed during his time being locked away. His son already seemed to have chosen to kowtow to his little wife, no longer willing to immediately jump the second that Lucius told him to do so. His son had been stolen from him by a girl who looked too sick to even walk down a flight of stairs let alone emotionally manipulate the heir to the Malfoy name.

The family fortunes had been diminished noticeably judging by the sudden disappearance of several old artefacts and the lack of recently updated clothing of any of his family members. The dinner, while traditionally delicious, was not as sweet or as richly flavoured as it had once been. His wife and son looked haggard and run down as though they had finally been forced to face the horrors of the world outside of these walls. This was a family greatly in need of someone who actually knew what they were doing to lead them.

But as per his punishment, Lucius would have to stand behind his own son for the rest of his days—a great shame, to be sure, but perhaps a shame that could be twisted to his benefit.

If he whispered into Draco's ears and controlled the young man from behind the scenes, then he could secretly run the Malfoy family form the back seat and be free of all blame for anything that might happen. Draco would appear to be in charge but it would Lucius in truth who still ran everything. Therefore, he would stand behind Draco's shoulder and remain there with a smile on his face, knowing that the Ministry would be able to do nothing against him with no real evidence that he was doing anything wrong. He would maintain control no matter what anyone else might want from him. It was a perfect plan.

It would not take much time—maybe a few months at most—to bend Draco to his will once more; a girl could offer only her body and there were plenty of other women that could be offered as alternatives to spend a night in bed with him. Astoria Greengrass was just a woman but Lucius was his father, holding the reigns of a sacred bond that could be broken by no woman, no matter how she might bat her eyes and simper. Lucius was his father and that meant that he alone knew how to get Draco to do as he was commanded.

Astoria Greengrass wouldn't stand a chance.


	47. Hen Night Condundrums

She avoided looking at the long, thin blue dress that hung just out of sight, waiting for her to slip it over herself, wearing the resplendent clothing for the first time, an act that she would not have to do for three days more. Every second seemed to take a million years to pass and yet sped by at the exact same time. Was it really only three days until the moment that she and Draco were expected to marry? She still felt like the sixteen year old girl sitting across the table from Draco as a contract was being written up in order to tie the two together for eternity.

Her breath hitched as she imagined actually standing across from him to say those words. All this work, all this effort put into getting back and here she was having a panic attack at the last moment, worrying that all of this effort would turn out to be for nothing.

There was a knock on the door and then Draco stepped in before she was able to respond. He was thinner than he'd been a month ago and seemed to carry himself with less confidence, shoulders pulled back tightly and always clenching his teeth any time that his father was around. In only a few short weeks, Draco had reverted back to the young man who always did exactly as he was told, cowering at the whims of his father.

"I thought you were already out with Blaise and whoever else for your stag night. Why're you still here?" she asked, waving her wand so that the door to the wardrobe snapped shut, not wanting Draco to look at the dress just yet. Astoria wasn't much of a traditionalist, but she still wanted to keep the dress to herself for now.

He shrugged. "Gregory's said he's going to be a little late because of something, something, not wanting to give his bastard up for the night to Bryony and she'd prefer the boy stay away from Millicent because she's a bad influence. I don't really understand or _care_ to be totally honest but we're going to head out the second he gets here."

"And who all is going again if you don't mind my asking?"

"Blaise, Theo, Gregory, Serbius, Philip, and Lucille's husband, Edgar. We would have invited my only other male cousin, but Brutus is only fourteen still—much too young for these sorts of things just yet, at least according to his mother. What about you? A bunch of whiny, shrieking girls coming to visit, eh? And I hear my sister is coming along as well?"

It was true that Lucissa Runcorn nee Davis would be amongst the group of young women joining Astoria tonight, mostly because the two had never formally met and Astoria was curious to see how similar to her brother and father Lucissa actually was.

"I don't suppose there's anything of actual substance that you could tell me about her, anything I ought to know before we meet? I feel like you rarely mention her, even if you did spend your earliest years as childhood playmates. Surely there must be _something_."

Draco made a face that she couldn't interpret, replying, "She certainly looks like my father but that doesn't make her much of a Malfoy. Lucissa has always been bookish and keeps to herself, doing her best to avoid attention. She would have likely made for a good prefect except that no one really remembered she was there to award the position to. The only thing I think she ever really spoke about was her distaste for blood purity that her father and brothers fought for—and even then, a large part of that was only to defy Father. In summation, I think the two of you will get on just fine. You're quite similar, really. Largely quiet girls who only get outspoken when they have something to actually care about."

There was a shout from downstairs followed by the slamming of a door, indicating that someone had arrived. Moments later, Bobbily appeared in the room to inform them that Mister Goyle had arrived and he and the other males were all waiting downstairs for Draco's return.

Kissing Astoria on the cheek, Draco moved to leave the room before remembering to add one final statement, "I hope you have a good time tonight and I'll see you in three days. Don't run off on me, understand? I won't be pleased if I return only to find that my bride has taken off again."

And then she was alone, Draco leaving as quickly as he'd arrived so that it was once more just Astoria and her thoughts, full of stress for the days and years that were still to come—the years they were to spend together as husband and wife.

With a sigh, Astoria got to her feet, knowing that almost a dozen young women would be here within the hour and she needed to be ready for their arrival, no matter the inner panic attack she was currently suffering through. No matter what, the party would go on and it was her job as host to smile, to at least pretend as though she was having a good time.

* * *

Someone screamed and Astoria suddenly had alcohol shoved into her hands as the other females shrieked and clapped their hands in excitement, watching the house elves drag wedding presents into the room, setting the increasingly growing pile down in front of Astoria, who watched with widened eyes as she was encircled by friends and family.

"Open this one, this one!" cried her cousin Roselle, dropping a large box at Astoria's feet as the other female took a long sip of her drink, knowing she was going to need it to get through the night. "This one is from Honoria and I and our mother, of course." She pointed in the direction of her seventeen year old sister, who smiled sweetly at Astoria.

The present turned out to be very revealing lacy underwear that would barely cover anything at all if Astoria were to wear it. She blushed and quickly stuffed the undergarments back into its box, trying not to let the queasiness of her stomach get to her.

Roselle leaned forward once more, explaining, "Trust me, these sorts of things will go a long way once the honeymoon ends. How do you think this happened?" She pointed down at her rounded, pregnant belly. The other married women in the room nodded in agreement, only furthering Astoria's anxiety as she remembered the expectations of a young wife that would lead to her becoming a mother one day.

Bryony Runcorn—or rather, Goyle—was the next woman to hand Astoria a present, listlessly dropping the box in the other girl's lap, an empty expression on her face. As she moved, there was a slight shimmer around her neck and bruises faded in and out of existence before Bryony settled back in her seat. She seemed to not hear Astoria's murmured thanks.

Inside the box were several books on glamour charms, cleaning charms, healing charms, and other similar subjects. Underneath them all was a stack of Muggle currency and a map of the London Underground along with a times table of when the train left every single day for the next month scribbled along the margins.

"Er, thanks, Bryony," Astoria said in a hesitant tone, awkwardly placing the books back in their box and putting down the lid. "Your presents show a lot of insight and...um, thoughtfulness about my future marriage and relationship with Draco."

The blonde merely shrugged and covered her face with her hands. There were several seconds of further awkward silence where no one else wanted to give Astoria their presents but the spell was thankfully broken when Lucille decided to loudly clap her hands and announce that it was now her turn to give Astoria a gift.

After all the women in the circle had done this, dinner was set out for them to eat, casually wandering around with cheeses and lamb and salad as they chatted. Astoria found herself sitting alone on a sofa, watching Honoria and Cecily Quincey dance with each other. Next to her, someone also suddenly sat down and out of the corner of her eye, she recognised the same blonde hair as Draco and the other Malfoys.

"Do you love my brother?" asked Lucissa in a low tone, not looking in Astoria's direction as she talked. "There have been plenty of people—women—who have claimed to love him in the past who were only seeking wealth or power."

Though the confrontation came out of nowhere, Astoria chose to answer the question with one of her own, responding, "I've always heard that you were Lucius' favourite of his three surviving children. How is that possible, as a girl and a bastard? And—and yet Draco seems to like you too, so does that mean despite you being the favourite, there's no chance of becoming heir over him? Or what about Philip instead? He's older than Draco is."

"You're worried that, even if you have your own son in a few years time, Draco will suddenly declare that Asterion is the new heir, aren't you? You can't help but remember that Pansy was his betrothed first, that he had a son with her and wouldn't it just be easier to name him the heir than wait to have another child with you?" Sullenly, Astoria nodded, causing Lucissa to let out a small chuckle, taking the other girl's hands in hers. "Draco wouldn't do that. One of his few remaining good friends is a bastard raised to a position of power and we've all seen the controversy _that_ created just from a lesser house. He wouldn't be foolish enough to do that any children he has, particularly ones that are born to the likes of Pansy Parkinson, one of the biggest social pariahs of our generation. I don't think there's going to be any sort of problem there."  
Astoria nervously twisted the engagement ring that seemed to suddenly weigh heavily on her hand. In three days, she would permanently become part of the Malfoy family and forever pay whim to whatever Draco demanded of her. What if he _did_ decide to put Asterion in place as heir because it was simply more convenient than risking Astoria's life?

"I don't know how I feel about all of this," she murmured, waving a hand at the party surrounding them, the women who enjoyed themselves while oblivious to her struggles. "I mean, we've gone to so much effort to reach this point and now, with less than seventy-two hours until the wedding, all I can think about is taking off again without ever looking back. Is that sort of thing normal? I feel like I'm just losing my mind, you know? It's like—like I don't even know _what_ I want."

"That's a fairly common fear for pretty much anyone who has ever married, no matter their blood status or circumstance. Freaking out at the last moment is practically a pre-wedding tradition at this point, so at least you're in great company. Before I married Joseph, I locked myself in my bedroom and cried all night, convinced that everything I knew and loved was going to be taken away from me the second that I became his wife. Hell, Lucille, for all her rambling about the beauty of her dress and the décor tried to run away only a few hours before _she_ was set to tie the knot. You aren't the first woman to feel this way, trust me."

And even if she found that these feelings of anxiety didn't die down after the wedding, Astoria wouldn't be able to do or say anything about it. She had literally helped to kill a man for the sake of this wedding, this marriage, and this entire relationship.

Roselle suddenly entered the room and grabbed Astoria's wrists to pull her to her feet, demanding that the two girls dance together as the hired quartet began to play a song from the corner of the room that they were set up in. The two girls spun around and Astoria did her best to smile and convey that she was immensely enjoying herself.

If she just put all of her concerns and fears out of her mind, maybe she would finally be able to pretend that everything would be perfectly okay and that there was nothing to worry about when it came to Draco.

Putting the biggest smile imaginable on her face, she chatted and laughed along with everyone else, taking drinks whenever anyone handed her one, nodding and mentioning how excited she was to soon be married to Draco, all the while hoping no one noticed it was all just a facade.

If she pretended that everything was going to be fine, then surely that meant that things would soon improve, right? Being married, the ultimate goal to a Pureblood female, meant that things were finally as they should be. So with a grin on her face and a fruity drink tightly clutched in one hand, Astoria lied through her teeth and hoped for the best.

* * *

 _ **Edit: 14/10/17, minor spelling corrections.**_

 _ **Next week is the wedding chapter so I hope everyone is looking forward to that.**_


	48. Wedding of the Century

Rows of family, friends, and others stood up to watch as Astoria, her arm linked through her cousin Archie's, making their way down the aisle. Draco stood at the end of the aisle with a smile on his face as they made eye contact. Her mother had tried to convince Astoria to wear a veil, which was traditional, but she wanted everyone to see that she wasn't crying, that she wasn't afraid to get married to this man.

Archie let go of her arm as she came even with Draco and the boy moved to sit down in his seat, leaving Astoria to stand across from her future husband. The two stared directly at each other while the Ministry official cleared his throat and began reading in the most uninterested tone he could possibly muster up.

In the crowd, she saw her mother with the two year old Linelle and four year old Octavius, who was squirming around and waiting for his time to stand up and hand Draco and Astoria their rings. Behind Mum was rows upon rows of Greengrass and Crabbe family members, with aunts, uncles, cousins; even Grandmother Greengrass was there, already sniffling into her handkerchief.

The Malfoy side, by comparison, felt much smaller—Narcissa, Haffrey's family, and Lucius' older sister with the last remaining members of the Black family. There was Lucille, of course, with her now four daughters and her sullen-faced husband, but for every Malfoy, there were at least three members of the Greengrass clan. It was really quite sad to see.

"Do you, Astoria Sophelia Greengrass take Draco Lucius Malfoy to be your lawfully wedded husband for as long as you both should live?" The official's tone gave her a start, having entirely drowned out the sound of his voice. Draco must have asked for the short version of the speech to speed things up.

Initially, Astoria nodded her head mutely before remembering that it took verbal confirmation to continue the ceremony. "Yes," she said in a firm voice and everyone watched as the first ring of brightly shining light encircled the couple, who moved to hold hands. Veil or no veil, there were some traditions she could not escape.

There were only a few Pureblood couples she could think of that had escaped the use of Unbreakable Vows—Marcus Flint and Michelle Bulstrode or Gregory Goyle and Bryony Runcorn. But Astoria saw no reason to put up a fuss about the matter, not when she already fully intended to spend the rest of her life with Draco.

"And do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Astoria Sophelia Greengrass to be your lawfully wedded wife for as long as you both shall live? Do you swear to protect her and defend her for as long as she remains your loyal servant and wife?"

"Yes," replied Draco swiftly, squeezing her hands as another ring of light encircled them. She had never been as certain as she was right then that Draco truly did care for her, considering he was willingly allowing the old Greengrass vows to remain in the ceremony to appease her mother for the sake of their families.

"Then the two of you will now be joined in heart and soul, head and hand, intertwined as in the days of old, bound by the oldest magic to spend eternity at each other's side. As a member of the Ministry, I acknowledge and approve this marriage from this day forth."

"As wife, I acknowledge and accept this marriage from this day forth," Astoria said in response, Draco echoing her words as the third and final ring ensnared them, brightly shining as the light burnt the skin of her arms and disappeared altogether, though the marks where she'd been touched remained. Supposedly the burns would disappear within a few days but for now, they would serve as ugly reminders of their vows.

Supposedly—according to the rumours at least—Muggle couples, along with non-Pureblood wizards, regularly kissed right after their Vows but such a thing would be viewed as unseemly to do in public, even at a wedding. That was what the Vow was for, to show everyone that they were committed to each other, that they were tied together for life. Unbreakable Vows held so much more weight than a simple kiss ever could, an act which meant almost nothing. Anyone could kiss, like how Astoria had once kissed Pansy in the middle of The Leaky Cauldron, not caring that everyone could see them. But that was not the same as what she had just done; the burns across her wrists and arms proved that much.

Kissing would be an impractical tradition for showing one's dedication to a relationship. So why did she want to kiss Draco so badly right then?

Octavius waddled over to hand them their rings, a toothy smile on his face as Astoria leaned down to kiss her little brother on the cheek before sending him back to sit with Mum and Linelle once more. The boy scampered off, holding the velvet pillow tightly in his hands as though his life depended on it.

Moments later, Astoria was whisked to the other side of the Malfoy gardens to shake hands and thank guests for coming, speaking the same words so many times that they felt wholly foreign in her mouth as they came out.

But greeting wedding guests was better than what came after—Draco and Astoria facing each other for their very first dance as a married couple. Of course, this moment had been reviewed time and time again but now there were roughly five hundred people watching as Draco put his hand on her waist and the band began to play a slow tune. The couple spun around by themselves, her head clutched in his and while they moved, she could almost forget that everyone was watching them. She could almost forget about tonight and what was expected of her as a wife. _Almost._

"You should smile more," Draco told her quietly, squeezing her hand in his. "You look so beautiful when you smile like this and I want everyone to know that you're proud to be my wife. Can you believe that we're finally here after all this time? We're finally married, aren't you excited? Aren't you happy for us, Astoria?"

 _Of course I am,_ she wanted to say, but Pansy's face kept swimming to the forefront of her thoughts, stopping the words from actually coming out. Instead, she leant in as close as was socially appropriate to rest her head on the upper part of Draco's arm, sighing deeply.

He cocked his head, eyes focusing as he ran through what she was thinking—of course he'd use Legilimency in a moment like this when she seemingly had nothing to say.

"She isn't healthy for you, Tori, or at least she's less healthy than I am. You _want_ children, I can see it in your thoughts, and running back to Pansy won't give you that nor will it fulfil your desire for a comfortable life, not when she barely has two Galleons to rub together these days. Oh, why are you crying, Tori? What did I say?"

Astoria brushed the tears away and held him that much more tightly. "Let's not talk about this right now at our wedding, let's not fight today of all days. I'd rather just keep dancing together and be happy for as long as we possibly can, okay? So let's not discuss these sorts of things here, okay? Or better yet, let's both recognise that I chose _you_ and that means something for the two of us. It _has_ to mean something."

"Of course it means something, Astoria. It means we're meant to be together, that we're meant to love each other as man and wife and, if I dare say it, even love each other as friends ought to. _That's_ why you came back, not just to be married but also because you believe you can have the relationship that my parents have, the sort of thing they talk about in the stories."

Forgetting what was socially acceptable, Astoria flung herself into his arms and kissed Draco deeply on the lips, not even bothering to pretend that she was embarrassed by the stares that the couple received upon separating. Let the guests think she was foolishly in love with her new husband, they would not be far from the truth.

As though knowing exactly what she was thinking—and it was likely that he did—Draco smirked and pulled her away from the other dancing couples to sit down, ordering a house elf to bring them pumpkin juice and dinner—"the vegetarian option", he said insistently, reaching the table to squeeze her hand encouragingly.

 _Pansy Parkinson who?_ She had exactly what she needed in a partner right in front of her.

Someone passed by and made a small noise, causing Draco to look up and make eye contact with his half-sister, who smirked at them, taking a seat at their table when offered by Draco, eyeing the new couple with a small glimmer in her eyes.

"So are you two excited about finally being married? And soon, hopefully, children will follow—Joseph talks about nothing else but the desire to have little children filling the house, though unfortunately we've yet to be so lucky, but at least I have little Beatrice for the time being." She nodded in the direction of her young niece, who was sitting happily on Philip's lap.

Draco shrugged and squeezed Astoria's hand once more, looking over to her. "We plan on having children soon enough, don't we, Tori? Only a few months ago, we talked to the Healers, who told us that if we're careful and have regular check-ups then we can ensure that both Astoria and the baby will be able to survive."

The music swelled and their conversation fell away in favour of watching as Narcissa and Lucius spun by, he dipping his wife and both chuckling when she moved to stand back up fully. They looked like the happiest couple in the world; it was nearly impossible to think that he had spent four years in prison and she was mentally ill.

Quietly to herself, Astoria recalled that meeting with the Healers when they ensured her that children absolutely could be a part of her future. For the past year, watching everyone else become pregnant and have children, all she'd wanted was to be a mother herself. Hearing that this was something she could actually do should have been a point of celebration for her but two months after receiving the news, she was no longer as desirous for children as she had been previously. But she would say nothing about it and let everyone think her biggest fear was her wedding night or being replaced by the likes of Asterion. Draco couldn't be allowed to know that she was now reluctant to become a mother.

Lucissa leant back in her chair, looking quite unlike a proper Pureblood woman as her skirts hiked up her legs. "I suspect it's quite difficult to be unhappy on a day like this, particularly with all that comes tonight." She winked at Astoria, who merely blushed in response, not wanting to think about such things. "I imagine it could have been worse, as weddings go—you could have been Bryony Runcorn, practically frog-marched down the aisle and crying all the way. Or her sister, Violet, that slut whose poor husband has deluded himself into thinking he has the purest and most innocent wife in existence. But then you'd know quite a bit about her purity, wouldn't you, Draco?"

The response was a shrug and a scowl from her brother. "I don't know what it is you think you're referring to. My relationship with Violet has been nothing but mature and friendly since I became engaged to Astoria. Surely you aren't suggesting that I would cheat on my lovely fiancée with a married woman, are you? How bold, sister."

The two kept talking but Astoria resting her chin on her hand, merely looked away, staring at nothing in particular off in the distance, knowing that no matter how she looked at it, staying by Draco's side was the best course of action for her if she intended on remaining within the inner circle of the Pureblood society. And for all her attempted to show people she didn't stand for blood purity, it was still always safer to stick with what was familiar than throw caution to the wind for a crush she oughtn't even be having in the first place.

Being in love with Pansy Parkinson—her sister's bully for so many years and now one of the biggest social outcasts—was not something easily done and at this point in her life, Astoria just wanted things to be easy like they had been before the war, when she and Daphne were still just children and the idea of death and marriage were the sorts of things far off in the future.

Looking down at the ring on her finger, Astoria couldn't help but imagine herself ten years older than she was now with a little boy on her lap and an even younger girl with Draco's eyes begging to be picked up so she could also sit with Astoria. But then her thoughts turned to Asterion and to Violet Runcorn, Pansy Parkinson, and to every other pretty girl that she'd ever seen hanging off of Draco's arms over the years.

"What are you thinking about, Tori?" he asked rather suddenly, leaning in to peer at her, making Astoria blush again and do her best to shut down such thoughts before he could see them. How troublesome to have a husband that could always know what you were thinking whatever he felt like knowing without having to ask.

Getting to her feet, she extended her hand to him and smiled. "I think we've got time for one last dance before they get started with all the boring speeches. Shall we?"

Arm in arm, they stepped back into the thrall of dancing people, Astoria resting her head on Draco's arm, the couple swaying back and forth until the final notes of the last song faded into silence. All that Astoria cared about was that they were happy for the rest of the night and, with any luck, such happiness would follow them for the rest of their lives.


	49. Within These Final Years

_July 2002_

"Oh, would you look at this?" Astoria mentioned over breakfast roughly a week into their honeymoon. She held up a copy of the local paper that had a picture of Harry Potter on the cover, one arm wrapped around Ginny Weasley, who was wearing her full Quidditch kit. "Apparently the French only just caught wind that these two are married. How long has it been—six or seven months now since the wedding?"

Draco barely even looked up from his breakfast to give her a somewhat scathing look, grunting slightly in her direction. "Of course bloody Saint Potter would follow me even to our honeymoon in an entirely different country. Why the hell wouldn't that be the case? it's been four years and everyone's still obsessed with him."

There was a chuckle and he looked up once more to see that Astoria was holding a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter at his overly dramatic behaviour. Normally he'd return such an action with a scowl but there was just something about her that made him want to laugh right along with her, the two of them grinning at each other like idiots, like they were fools, like they were...in love.

And that's what this was, right? Love? That disease he'd always run from before but now that he finally ad Astoria, well, he didn't mind so much falling hopelessly in love with her for the rest of his days. It would be better for their marriage if he was devoted to her like a husband ought to be and loved her as a wife deserved.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" she asked, the moment between them ending as Astoria pulled away from the table in favour of tossing the paper in a nearby trash can while the house elf—a wedding present from her aunt Drisella, named Tatzy—gathered up her dishes and bustled off with them into the next room.

"Just thinking about how soon it will be until we finally have children of our own so my mates can stop having a good laugh. Even during the stag night, half of them thought this would all turn out to be a joke at my expense. But we'll show them soon enough, won't we, Tori? Hell, if you want, we could head back upstairs and continue working on growing our family."

Astoria made a small face but then looked away so quickly that Draco wondered if he'd imagined it. It was their honeymoon, though, so whatever issues there might be could be handled at a later time when they weren't staying in a château in France for two weeks all by themselves. He didn't want to start a fight during a time alone when they were supposed to be happy.

Instead, he's focus on how beautiful she looked right then as they headed back up the stairs together, shedding clothes and telling the house elf not to bother them for any reason.

* * *

 _March 2004_

"So how's your wife?" she asked when Draco rolled off of her with a heavy sigh. "I heard she's in Milan with that daft cousin of hers. Why not go with them? I hear Italy's very lovely this time of year. Though of course, I don't mind you staying if it means we get to spend more time together, don't you agree, love?"

He rolled his eyes, his tone just less than snapping as he responded, "And what about your husband? Does he still not know that this little facade of being the sweet, perfect wife he asked for is all just a front for what you actually do in your free time? _I_ didn't make any such vow of chastity when Astoria and I married."

The fertility he'd been promised—Sophronia Greengrass had fallen pregnant within a month!—still eluded Draco and Astoria though they'd been married for nearly two years now. Perhaps he was being impatient but his little wife had grown very ill once more not long after their return from France, which everyone initially suspected was the beginning of a pregnancy but merely turned out to be her illness coming back in full force. And now that she was finally healthy again, the girl had run off to Italy without him, claiming she needed to be somewhere with plenty of fresh air and no stress. How were they meant to have children if she was never in any condition to carry a pregnancy to term or even worse, was never around?

The marriage contract! How could he have forgotten so easily? No one ever did away with Haffrey's requirement for children to be born within eight years of their wedding. For fuck's sake, at this rate, their contract could never be properly fulfilled.

"Where are you going? I thought we were having a nice time. I'm sorry for bringing up your wife." She sat up, wrapping the covers tightly around her body so that he could still see the outline of her curves even through the fabric. "Please don't leave—we can go again if you want. I don't want to be left alone, Draco. It's so lonely by myself."

"Violet—" He was already pulling his shirt back over his head, ignoring her please, "—do me a favour. The next time you see that idiot of a husband of yours, give me a kiss and tell him that you love. Can you do that for me?"

She watched, befuddled, as he pulled up his trousers and laced up his trainers with a wave of his wand. Seemingly out of nowhere, at least for Violet, Draco was very suddenly taking off, leaving her in a cold bed while her children slept just one floor below them.

"I love you!" she blurted out, rushing from the bed to grab his wrist in an effort to pull him back towards the sheets. "I love you far more than she ever could, don't you see that? Why don't we run away together and be happy instead of staying in these marriages that bring us nothing but misery? Why not leave her and be with me instead?"

Yanking himself from her grip, Draco made his way across the room, telling her shortly, "The difference between you and I is that I actually _do_ love my spouse. These few weeks have been fun, yes, but for the sake of my marriage, Vi, it has to end between us. Good-bye. Don't forget to tell your husband that you love him."

* * *

 _January 2005_

Looking at the picture of Violet's newest child, he was very grateful that the woman's family had a history of blonde hair and lighter features, even if Violet herself was a brunette. Of course, the girl would look almost nothing like her siblings or 'father' as she grew older but hopefully Violet was smart enough to remark regularly on how much the child looked like her mother.

"Oh, isn't she cute?" cooed Astoria, taking the photograph from his hands to look at it. "I can see quite a lot of you in her, Violet, that's so sweet—and that hair colour is all Bryony, anyone can see that much. What's her name, if you don't mind my asking?" She handed the photo back to Oliver Rivers, who placed it in his pocket, as silent and sullen as ever.

"Dione Camellia. Oliver wanted to name the poor darling Diana but I convinced him to pick something that had more of a _ring_ to it, not to mention that it was my great-grandmother's name. She's almost a month old now but we've simply been far too busy to formally show her off to everyone just yet. That's how life is when you're a mother of four, you know?" She put a hand over her mouth, pretending to gasp. "Oh, I'm so sorry for that, Astoria, of course I didn't mean to be insensitive. But as I said, this little photo is as much time as we really have. Oliver and I _really_ must be going but it was so lovely to see you both again. Ciao!"

And with that, she was off, leaving Astoria and Draco to stand in the empty streets of Diagon Alley by themselves. She moved to take his hand and, not wanting to draw her suspicion, he let her for once, no matter how improper it was to do so in public.

That child—that baby girl—was his, he knew it. Oliver and Astoria and everyone else might convince themselves that Dione was a Rivers, but Draco knew what the truth was. He looked at that photograph and saw the daughter that he should have with Astoria by now.

It simply wasn't fair. How did this keep happening, that the only women he slept with that wasn't producing children was the one he needed children from the most? The universe was clearly laughing at him with all these cruel jokes it was playing.

"Well?" asked Astoria, shifting slightly to glance at him. "If we want to have any hope of catching up to Violet and Oliver, we'll have to visit this potions shop for fertility potions and they close in just twenty minutes so we'll have to hurry."

Five more years. They had five and a half more years to fulfil the children part of their contract, which Draco had been unable to have taken out due to it already being signed off by Haffrey and then again several years later by his son Serbius, unlike the wedding date part of the contract, which had been intentionally left blank.

He could never let Astoria know the truth about the parentage of Dione Rivers especially considering her reaction when Pansy became pregnant. There was no time that could be wasted by losing her and to be honest, for all his sleeping around, Draco truly did love his wife.

So this would be a secret for Violet and him until the very end of their days.

* * *

 _May 2006_

There was a creak from the other side of the bed and Draco, who had grown used to his wife's constant need to rush off to the bathroom, woke up just enough to watch her climb out of the bed, the roundness of her stomach apparent even through her thick nightgown. Astoria was cold all the time now and wore what he felt was an excessive number of layers at all times.

"Is it the baby?" he asked, causing her to jump slightly from shock, not expecting him to be awake so early in the morning. "Do you want me to call one of the house elves to get you some toast or a glass of water?"

Before now, he'd not put much faith in spells or potions that made claims to boost fertility but seeing the healthy glow to his wife's face and her heavily swollen stomach, he was quite glad that such things existed at least as an idea to put faith into for something good to happen.

Astoria shook her head before hurrying into the bathroom, retching into the toilet for what felt like forever. While he waited, Draco sent off for a house elf to bring them a very light breakfast and then rearranged Astoria's pillows so that they would be more comfortable for her return. No one could say that he was an inattentive husband.

The food arrived right as she finished in the toilets and the two of them sat together on the bed, eating toast while she grumbled about all the annoyances that came with being eight months pregnant—swollen feet, ballooning stomach, aching feet and back, and the fact that she _still_ had morning sickness after all this time.

Eagerly, he listened to every worse she said, letting her speak about whatever came to mind and calling for refills of their water when they were emptied. Perpetually fascinated by every element of Astoria's pregnancy and what it meant for the two of them, Draco couldn't keep the dopey grin off his face even through the most unnerving parts of what she was experiencing. It would all be worth it when they were finally parents.

"What are you grinning for? Any normal man would have bolted by now if they'd heard even a fraction of the things I've just told you. But you act like every single complaint is the best thing you've ever heard."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're your most attractive when you're all grumpy like this? No? That's practically criminal the because I've never been more grateful to have you as my wife than I am at this very moment. I dare say you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."  
"Liar," she replied, but her laugh and blush gave away how pleased she was by his compliments. "I'm fat and ugly and you only love me because I'm having your child."

In a joking tone, he said, "That's probably true," leaning back in time to avoid being hit. "But regardless of whether that's the truth or not, I'm madly in love with you right now and there's nothing you could say or do to change my mind. You're stuck with me, Astoria, until the day both of us are dead."

Astoria leant over to kiss him on the cheek, whispering thank you into his ear before pulling away to down her recently refilled glass. "For Merlin's sake, you are the sappiest person I've ever met, Draco Malfoy. It's a miracle I still put up with it."

They had been given eight years to have a child and it took them four very stressful years full of conversation with several different Healers, trying this and that fertility potion or spell or whatever concoction they could get their hands on. And now, after so much effort, they finally were about to have the one thing they were seeking most in the world—a child to call their own.

So maybe he was being a bit of a sap and more than a little corny but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't wait to fulfil this last part of their contract and ensure that he and Astoria would remain married and devoted to one another.

He didn't need one night stands or mistresses or children that shared his eyes but not his name. Everything he needed was right next to him on the bed. The rest of his life was right here, starting the day that their son was born. Draco could hardly contain himself with how eager he was to finally become a father.

"We ought to get some more sleep while we still can," Astoria said a few minutes later, setting aside the tray that had held their food. She flicked her wand at the lights as they both laid down. "Good-night, Draco. I love you."

"I love you, too, Tori. I'll always love you no matter what happens. I'm so glad you're the one I chose to tie myself to for the rest of my life."

And he meant that with every fibre of his being.


	50. Our Final Breaking Point

Draco was out of the house, seeing over a few of the companies that his family ran when a house elf came running towards him and the overseer, a letter clutched in its bony fingers as it sprinted in his direction, stopping just short of them with its little chest heaving.

"Master Snerling, Nipsy is having a letter for Mr Malfoy. It's urgent, the letter is saying, concerning Mr Malfoy's wife. She is having the baby right now, sir, and they is needing you right away." The elf jabbed the letter in Draco's direction, who opened it up, quickly scanning over the frantic handwriting of Roselle Burke, who had taken Astoria to hospital in his stead.

He shoved the letter into his pocket and turned to Overseer Snerling. "If you'll excuse me, my wife is in labour and I'd really prefer to be there with her as it's our first. Perhaps we could continue this tour at a later date?"

And with that, he was gone, Apparating off the premises and appearing moments later in the alleyway right next to where St Mungo's was located. Hurriedly, he told the abandoned shop dummy that he was here to see his pregnant wife and then rushed through the glass, barely stopping to check that no Muggles were around to see him. Moments later—or so it felt with the amount of adrenaline he had built up—he was at the front desk, staring down an overly chipper looking Welcome Witch as he shoved her wand at her to check.

"And what are you here for today, sir?" asked the witch in a pleasant tone, not touching the wand as she leant over to grab the stack of paperwork he'd need to fill out.

"My wife, Astoria Malfoy, went into labour and was brought here several hours ago. I'd like to get a move on with all of this so I can be by her side if you don't mind." He pushed the wand even closer to her, out of breath from how quickly he'd been moving moments before. He was beginning to grow frustrated with her slow nature, a feeling that only grew when she paused mid-stroke of her quill to look up at him with distaste.

"You're Draco Malfoy?" she practically spat at him, her upper lip curling as she looked down her nose at him. "Excuse me, but we have a very clear policy to not serve Death Eaters, even those who escaped the clutches of a proper punishment. I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately or else I'll be forced to call security on you."

"What? No, my wife is giving birth to our son right now, I really don't have time for this. Can you please just process my wand so I can go upstairs and find her? This is very important, it's the birth of my first child." He groaned when the witch instead waved her own wand in the direction of two Aurors, calling them over with a short shower of sparks. "For the love of Salazar, woman, this is why we've been having the Healers come visit us instead of the other way around, because of mad people like you looking to hold an eight year grudge."

"And your kind is the reason that I lost both my sisters eight years ago, so don't assume that just because you were never imprisoned means you aren't guilty, _Death Eater_. Over here, please sirs, this man shouldn't be here. He's a danger to everyone in this building if you ask me."

Turning around, Draco saw—of course—the great Harry Potter and a young black woman coming up to him with their wands already drawn. Potter paused when he and Draco made eye contact, the former blinking owlishly behind his glasses; very slowly, he lowered his wand placed a hand on his partner's arm, lowering her as well, though she didn't seem to agree with the movement judging by her deep scowl.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Potter looked him up and down with a critical gaze. "You don't seem too beat up to me, or sick either, other than a slight flush to your face. What do you need to be here for?"

"For the love of—" Draco groaned, tired of explaining the same thing over and over. "My wife is in labour and I am trying to get in to see her before my wife is actually born but this young woman seems to think that I'm here for something more sinister, which I can assure you I'm _not_. You can even check in with Charlene Goodbody—she's my monitor from the Ministry, she can tell you we've been preparing for our son to be born here for several months now and I have no ill intentions towards St Mungo's in any capacity. I swear, just owl her."

Potter frowned and Draco knew in that second that he was going to be kicked out without question, missing the birth of his first child. Potter had no reason to trust Draco, even eight years after the war had ended, considering that Draco only ever put in the minimal effort to fulfil his Ministry-sanctioned obligations. All the other male had to go off was seven years of antagonism during their schooling and Draco's continued reputation of being withdrawn and socially uncooperative when it came to the Ministry.

Taking a deep breath, Potter turned to the Welcome Witch. "Check him in, Felicia. Malfoy isn't going to cause a problem, he just wants to see his wife. Merlin forbid how Ginny might have reacted if I missed either of our boys being born. I'll escort him up there myself if you''re worried about something going wrong."

The receptionist made a face but rushed through the check-in process and suddenly Draco found himself on his way, following Potter up the stairs to the maternity ward, newly built to keep up with the sudden increase in births within Wizarding Britain, along with demands for an alternative to the old-fashioned home birth method.

"You have sons?" Draco groaned internally, immediately regretting engaging Potter in any sort of conversation. He just wanted to see Astoria, not try to bridge the gap that fifteen years of mutual hatred built up between them.

The other man nodded, though he remained facing forward, refusing to look in Draco's direction. "James is two now and Albus was born only two weeks ago. I suspect we'll be waiting a few years longer if we decide to add a third one to the brood. One child is enough work already without adding another one, especially with them both still in nappies. The smell is awful. Though of course, you won't know much about that, will you, Malfoy? I suspect a house elf will be doing all the work in raising your child?"

Scowling back at him, Draco shook his head. "I plan on being more involved in my children's lives than the traditional Pureblood, not that it's really any of your business. I don't want my son to grow up as some kind of stranger to me."

They arrived at the maternity ward, where Draco was directed to his wife's room just in time to hear the head Healer say, "Oh very good, it's a boy!" and pull a tiny, squalling pink thing away from Astoria, handing the newborn off to a nearby mediwitch for inspection and clean up. Potter, thankfully, took off without saying a word, clapping Draco on the shoulder for a moment before heading back down the stairs.

"Look who finally decided to show up." The voice—that dreaded voice—belonged to Pansy Parkinson, who stepped away from the groggy but still conscious Astoria to narrow her eyes in his direction. "You certainly took your time getting here, didn't you? At least it's more than can be said for when your _first_ son was born."

"This _is_ my first son," Draco replied curtly, turning his attention to a mediwitch who was asking for the name of their son to be put in the records. "Scorpius Hyperion—yes, like scorpion, but with an 'us' at the end, yes that's right. Exactly, thank you very much." He scowled at Pansy as the mediwitch left, but she only rolled her eyes in response. "Who invited _you_ to be here anyway? Where did Roselle go?"

"Cousin Rose had to run back home to be with her kids and when it became clear you weren't going to be here in time, Astoria begged the Healers to Floo call me instead. I guess she's not over me as she wanted you to think."

The little curl of her lip made him want to throttle Pansy. How dare she come in here and think she had any right to meddle with the life of his family? Who in the hell did she think she was, prancing in here as though she deserved to insert herself into everything once more?

But before he could yell at her to get out, Draco was being rushed to his wife's side as their son was returned to her arms. He was small, pink, and so fragile looking that even resting in his wife's arm, there was a concern nudging at Draco, reminding him of how easily babies could be hurt with just one simple misstep. The mediwitches and Healers left the room so that the new family could enjoy a few minutes of peace together.

"Look at our little Scorpius," cooed Astoria, kissing the newborn gently on the head while Draco observed the boy. He already had a layer of soft, almost white-blond hair and though his eyes were the stereotypical baby blue, there was just a hint of that familiar Malfoy grey. This was, without a doubt, his son, the precious child he'd waited so long for.

It was a euphoric moment, almost enough so that he could forget the existence of Pansy, who was now standing on the other side of Astoria, also staring down at Scorpius. That was not her son, she shouldn't be here, Draco wanted to say, but he saw how happy his wife was right then and the last thing that Draco wanted to do in that moment was upset her unnecessarily. But there would need to be a conversation about how close Pansy was allowed to become with this child—which was not at all. Draco did not want his ex-fiancée to have anything to do with his son.

Pansy reached out to stroke his son's head, though, and he forgot all about trying to keep things peaceful for the sake of Astoria.

"Don't you have a child of your own to attend to, Pansy? I think it's high time you leave my family alone and go back to your own. After all, this is not any child of yours and I certainly don't want you to be anywhere near my son, not with the kind of people you're known to associate with. I wouldn't want any of that near my son."

"Oh, is this one your child then? You're actually claiming him? At least you're one for three on that matter, though such a track record does very little to make you look like a capable father. Do you visit Violet's child as often as you visit Asterion or do you somehow have some sort of actual attachment to the little girl?"

Astoria's head jerked upwards, turning to gape at Draco with a combination of horror and rage. "What does she mean by that, Draco? What other child is she talking about? You swore there would be no more secrets, no more illegitimate children from trysts with other women. You said that you _loved_ me too much to cheat ever again."  
She placed Scorpius in the nearby cot and pushed herself from the bed to stab her finger against Draco's chest, tears welling in her eyes as she continued to demand answers that he could not give her. The answer was obvious already.

Why did Pansy Parkinson have to ruin any fleeting moment of happiness? This was meant to be a day of good things, of new beginnings with his son but even that small moment had been taken away from him. He was being punished for a mistake that Draco regretted mere minutes after it happened. How was any of this meant to be fair?

There wasn't even a point in trying to deny it; he'd seen Violet's daughter recently and the resemblance to him had only grown stronger. Astoria wouldn't be able to lie to herself any more about the truth of her parentage.

"Astoria," he tried to explain, stretching out a hand to her, which she stepped away from. "Violet was a mistake, one I stopped making _because_ of my love for you."

"Were you drunk out of your mind that time, too?" Her eyes burned with an intense fury and he had no choice but to shake his head, admitting that he'd known what he was doing at the time. "It's not the same as with Pansy—you were sober when you did it and more importantly, you are _married_ and were when you cheated on me. You may say you love me now but you said you loved me two years ago when you slept with someone other than your wife!"

She transfigured her hospital gown into proper robes and gathered up her things, an expression of cold fury on her face.

"We're through, Draco. I _mean_ it this time, we're fucking done, do you hear me? I'm not going to spend the rest of my life worried that you're off with someone else, making children that aren't mine! If you really ever loved me, you'd know I don't deserve this. Any common man may sleep with other women, but you swore that you were above a common man. I guess that's just one more lie that I was foolish enough to fall for."

The slamming of the door as she walked out on them broke Draco's heart, but there was nothing that he could do. Astoria was right, he had betrayed her trust, betrayed their marriage and because of his actions, Scorpius would grow up without a mother.

"Wow. You really fucked up this time, Draco. Guess my job is done here. Have fun with your crumbling life." Pansy followed out the hospital door, leaving the two Malfoy males all to themselves in awkward silence.

He looked down at the little boy in his cot, who began to sniffle and cry, small fists balling up when no one immediately came to his aid.

It would be just the two of them for a very long time, Draco realised as he moved to comfort the newborn. This boy was all that he had left of Astoria and, rocking Scorpius back and forth, Draco made a promise that he would love the boy enough to make up for his failures and to make up for costing Scorpius his mother. Draco had to do this to prove that he truly was capable of love. He would not fail his son on this matter, Draco swore it.

"You are the heir to the Malfoy name," he whispered into the boy's ear. "One day you will be richer and more powerful than any other wizard in your generation. But it is my job as your father to ensure that you don't make the same mistakes as I have and for that, I must be the best father I can possibly be. I love you, Scorpius, more than life itself, and no matter what, I will not let you down. I will not fail you."

Draco would sooner die than hurt his son as a consequence of his own shortcomings. He would sooner die than fall short as his own father had done with Draco.

 _He swore it._


End file.
